Mackneen, The Algerian Goldfinch

_In memories of my mom

Small Town_Jill Osier

Listen. The rug is wet because
I stood here. Because
it started pouring. Because
your door was open and I was
under a tree. Because
it was raining. Because the rain
and tree both
were in your backyard. Because
so was I. Because you
weren’t home. Because I knew
you were bowling. Because
I walk your road. Because your road
goes by your house. Because
I felt like a walk. Because
it was going to rain. Because your door
is never locked._Jill Osier

_Courtesy to the Author

Few months before the pandemic, I returned to Kadous, to pay a visit my parents’s house, it’s in a small leafy town in the suburbs of Algiers, hidden in a glen, a place where I grew up among goldfinchs, robins, cherry trees, and loquats.

I was inspired by the poem above to write…

View original post 355 more words