Whistler’s Annunciation

Here’s one from / for  Poetry Pantry #497 at Poets United, originally published (online) at Red Wolf Journal in March 2015.

Whistler’s Annunciation

Mister Whistler looms
down the gloomy street,
hoping to meet the morning
but limps himself back home
before dawn.
…………………….When the sun
comes scrambling up at last
over the staring and eggy town,
sleepy in its early kitchens,
all the yellow curtains
in all the yellow windows
burst into Sunday flames
and fall, burning the countertops
and leaving their feeble yellow ash
on Mister Whistler’s sad and
unswept morning floor

15 thoughts on “Whistler’s Annunciation

  1. I like the idea of the sun scrambling up at last – a wonderful play on words – as well as drawing my mind to the title of your blog in a mischievous way. I like the way yellow runs through the poem. And I wonder why Mr. Whistler was out SO late as to return home when the sun was rising. Smiles.

  2. I am drawn to the break lines in this poem. It feels like an egg that has been cracked. The first portion is quite dark with Mister Whistler, looming down a gloomy street, to the second which is filled with light and sunny yellow. Morning has broken.

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