faded white wood planks engulfed in quamoclit, a reclaimed quiescent
the object I seek is blatantly obvious, yet invisible.
frustrating-
just like leaving my intentions behind while crossing the doorway.
I laugh as humor seats itself quietly.
The first time I ever saw a dead body was in the woods. The open coffin sat where the porch swing once hung. The rusted ceiling bolts served as a reminder of what was.
That old dingy porch framed a poignant image; - an unintentional mental snapshot. Death stood at the doorway, barring entrance.
The splattered sunlight melded with the shadows. The white wood planks faded into the background- engulfed in sadness.
The inner light was gone; only a shell remained. Nature reclaims what it intends.
Yet life lives on where memories flow. A sweet benison between the falling rain--
Rhonda Bronte Brown is a National Board-Certified Teacher and retired teacher/counselor whose work has appeared in Better Than Starbucks, The Trouvaille Review, Meat for Tea, The Orchards Poetry Journal and The Best Haiku 2025 international anthology and several online journals. She holds both a BS and a Master’s degree and writes children’s literature and poetry exploring nature, SEL, and STEM.
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