I know I haven’t written a blog post in a while. Haven’t been able to focus, I guess. Grief will do that to you.
Anyways, I’m hoping to get a poem out this Tuesday, so stay tuned for that. And thanks, dear readers – few though you may be – for sticking with [insertcleverwordplay].
Tuesday Mornin dawns so grey
It’s like a stone turned into sky
and weathered snow and
now the ice is creepin over the lake
It seeps into the water’s cracks
and paddles itself to the shore
But why aren’t these patches all
filled up with the sleepin waves?
I look towards my light and see
that it’s gonna feel so cold
So cold they say the wind is hot –
it fills me on the inside
Little words around sunset aren’t
dawn; they’re like the stony lake
And always paddlin precipitation
I take and leave the mornin light
where I can still see it