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Three Poems

Ewa Kuk

Lisbon



Cheek by Jowl

 Rain sizzling
On the umbrella-frying-pan.

Further on - the landscape
Settling into a Pissaro-painting blur.

My rucksack-lugging back-pain
Silver-lined by thoughts of you


Morning

 The day
Shrugs off darkness
That isn't night.

I rise from bed with strands
And threadbare wisps
Of dreams, clinging

For the day's ride;
Hope they will make good
Their word-free promises.


Eye-corner Revelations

 A disarray of small leaves
Scattered and glowing
Like green broken glass;

A gift casually thrown one's way
While hurrying into the morning;

Life asserting itself in beauty
Any which way it can.




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