Sherry

by Renwick Berchild

Pumpkin orange makes our home,
held with the warm hearth,
domed with thoughts of snow,
old and lingering leaves,
handwritten letters that have piled on our stoop,
drops of sherry on our tongues,
clary oil in the lavender,
that eases the sheets,
breathing the rain,
we submerge
like two fish
giddy.

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