Nov 05 2008
when
It’s hard to write when
you’re happy
The words insist
on laughing
The prose jumps
and winks
the meter sings
its own song
and things are too
sweet to chase after
them
The sky is too blue
(like your eyes)
the sun too bright
(like your eyes)
for inking thoughts
for stringing images
and shaping metaphor
Time doesn’t matter
details don’t care
The ether is clear
the road is open
the hills roll forward
and the path
leads us home
at last
copyright 2008
