Jan G. Otterstrom F.

Home About Jan Poems Books Order Online Gallery



She came at dawn and red into his ear
words that sounded in his skull, to echo
through the chambers of his brain
lanced lobes drove his pen to write
giving directions to find his way
narrow streets, corners without signs
along the borders of laurel trees, boughs
with sunlight moving between their leaves
while choirs of colorful birds in chorus
medley of melodies sang, songs of home
hymns his mother had hummed
while about her chores and at the close of day.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. 2/4/2013