|
I think a new poem -
not because you stopped those apocalyptic downpours,
tornadoes, even,
and show a day of actual sunlight and clear sky.
Hatched during your mean streak,
the mosquitos are mid-summer strong.
I was writing about that sky
before you took it away from me
for two too-long weeks.
I was lying naked under your sun.
And, as you know,
I was looking good back then.
I don’t think I trust you enough
to get back out there now.
Thanks,
but I’ll just forget about how I look.
Not only that -
I was drawing again.
My pen and paper
suffused by sunlight,
I drew up a storm...
__________________
create evolution
|