Poem: A Fresh Coat
The chips and cracks of winter announce themselves
Bluntly almost. With no consideration for propriety.
The porch cries out for a fresh coat of paint, a new veneer to camouflage the imperfections
The dog loses his hair, dropping shiny threads where he lies.
When the dead ones have been expelled, sent away without a second thought
A new sprout appears.
A fresh coat.
The poison turns her skin sallow, and she too sheds, leaving long reminders of her health
Wherever she lies.
How she longs for new wings, or, at the least, a fresh coat.