Monday, April 24, 2017

Crepuscular Poem-ideas

I shall read poetry only in the morning,
writing some of my own thoughts as they pass
my way.  Plucking ideas out of the air;
motes back-scattering words in the opalescent window frame.

Poem-ideas always seem to change when seen
from different angles in fading dust-light.
What could be better than a dog, cuppa,
and the sunrise and the still of the house, and
the periodic hum of the refrigerator?

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