in the Palo Verde tree
is that why you’re barking
even when you can’t see me
and I can’t see you
it’s what we’re thinking
and we’re still blinking
in clusters we the children
of their amazement and chagrin
O to be done with poetry
for it to have made its mark
accomplished its twilight
so we can move on
to the real magic
the purer night
No comments:
Post a Comment