Minutes before the opening act
of the play of dusk
the wind
lifts the curtain of clouds
and the sun
descending into the trees
lances light
onto the meadow
where shadows slash and point
to an abandoned shed
empty
except for a white plastic chair
an opened bag of Miracle-Gro
and leafy vines
that twine through the doorframe
and search the wooden floor
on which I stand and watch
through its two windows
fireflies
like brief planets
arrive
This poem first appeared in The Dewdrop (2024).
—
Bradley Samore has worked as an editor, writing consultant, English teacher, creative writing teacher, basketball coach, and family support facilitator. His writing has appeared in The Florida Review, Carve, The Dewdrop, and other publications. He is a winner of the Creative Writing Ink Poetry Prize. www.BradleySamore.com
