I see a light through the keyhole while fumbling with the keys to my imagination. The faint sliver penetrates the darkness just enough that I can tell it’s there. I try the first key. It doesn’t fit. I try the next and the next. Each is another mismatch. Finally, the last one slips into place. The lock clicks as the key twists. I turn the knob. The door swings wide and daylight spills in.
spring morning
I follow a bee
to the honey
First Published: ColoradoBoulevard.net Poet’s Salon
https://www.coloradoboulevard.net/poets-salon-opening-doors/
