I hope this will be my last "down-the-road" shot for a while. Something on the insane weather this weekend. One of the few times I've started a poem with a hashtag.
To Reckon
January in
Massachusetts,
sunblind on
clear streets.
This is something
you haven't earned.
Hat, coat, gloves
left at home.
Wind doesn't tear
down your ears.
Something knows
this moment stolen
and will come
to take it back.
You won't
be warned
about what
you should know.
stealing lambs
from lions
brings back
the wild.
Winds blow,
never telling
which carries
consequence.
To Reckon
January in
Massachusetts,
sunblind on
clear streets.
This is something
you haven't earned.
Hat, coat, gloves
left at home.
Wind doesn't tear
down your ears.
Something knows
this moment stolen
and will come
to take it back.
You won't
be warned
about what
you should know.
stealing lambs
from lions
brings back
the wild.
Winds blow,
never telling
which carries
consequence.
No comments:
Post a Comment