Sun, Not So Good For Poets
Somewhere blessed with darkness,
someplace delicious with shadows
that can barely even be discerned,
it’s raining a lucky black streak.
But here night’s long since faded
like sugar into water
like sin into stain
and this virgin page
is in no mood to scuffle with
poems joyous with light or fiddles
or happy bunnies frolicking with cute
little kitties tangled in balls of yellow yarn.
(Please note, my professional training is not in poetry
but in weaving Easter baskets from childhood sunsets
and sidewalks of silk.)
Jannie Funster December 2008
1 comment:
Hey, not bad.
:)
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