Time to bathe al fresco
watched by frosty stars and a crescent moon.
I twist quickly for warmth
beneath needle-like strands of hot water
dispensed by an ancient showerhead,
its shadow stretched on white painted wood.
Steam clouds ride past the eaves
into a clear night sky beyond. Surely the burnt offering
over my head is sweet.

David Findley was born in Kansas City, MO. His parents’ families have  roots in the Missouri Ozarks, but his family transplanted itself to Northern Virginia when he was 5 years old.  He received a BA in English,  with Distinction, from UVA in 1976.    His poems have been published in Potomac Review, and he has taken poetry writing courses with Hilary Tham and Henry Taylor via the Writers Center in Bethesda MD.

1 COMMENT

  1. Dave,
    To tell you I loved your poem just isn’t enough. Especially, sadly, since the beach house has been raised, you have honored it with your beautiful creation. With this you have evoked many pleasant memory’s and I can’t thank you enough. Man I miss taking those outdoor showers! I can hear the “creeeeeek” followed by the “SLAM” of the shower door in my mind right now!

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