Elizabeth Romero: Birth

The next day she got up because of a dream.

The railroad cars were loaded with pale lumber

in the sun and all around were green-gold trees.

On the table were honey and salt,

six cents and a notebook.

The smoke from her cigarette and the steam from her coffee

curled upward like prayer.

A gray and white pigeon propelled itself across the sky

and  green leaves fluttered like a conductor’s hands.

Copyright 2018 Elizabeth Romero