2016 National Poetry Month Poem Three of Thirty - Desolation

Bleak skies heavy with unfallen rain
A cold wind rustles thatch, and
Clothing on the line snaps
Cadence of impending storm

Inside whitewashed cottage
Mother and Daughter sit at tea
Poured hot from cozy covered pot
Matching china cups dappled by
Waning afternoon light through lace
Fresh cream and sugar stir up
The future in tea leaves, swirling
Biscuits, sweet dipped, pinkie lifted
Cup to mouth, chipped edge turned away

Mother talks of days gone by,
Old boyfriends, husband off to war,
Not returning then or now or ever
The cold space in her bed, beside
Daughter, wistful, stirs new futures
Into tea leaves, faulty daydreams

Outside, furry moth lands on
Ancient window, then flits away
As raindrops begin their tapping
Coded messages upon the glass
And broken cobblestones that line
The aging walk; rosebush at the
Garden gate drops one petal,
Red as fresh drawn blood

Inside, Daughter's heart breaks
Serving Mother another cookie
"Tea's good today," her mother says,
With a smile she once reserved
For strangers

(c) 4.3.2016