The imagery of hard boiled sweets in the mouth is poetically mouth-watering. I hope I’m re-blogging this gem.
I always greet red dawns with caution.
Farmer’s daughter,
I turn over countryside sayings
like hard-boiled sweets
in my mouth.
The syrup long since sucked
from the center,
now all crunch and brittle,
the shards pricking my gums
in warning.
No amount of scoffing,
can keep my grandmother’s voice
from speaking to the dawn.
Soft, and familiar,
chanting the same words,
myth
now made fact.
Red mornings are both beautiful,
and dangerous.
We should watch
for a change in the winds.