If ever a day so deceitful, so
promising in its delicate sunshine,
you’d stow all the wools and flannels, change out
storms for screens—the mud-framed sidewalks, matted
gardens so bathed in clemency you’d stamp
COMMUTED on the calendar and free
those squirmy inmates from their times-sevens
and prepositions to dance a giddy
getaway into rumpus rooms of blue
and wispy white—today’s that kind of day.
Originally appeared in Silver Stork
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
“Clemency” “times sevens” delicacy” “deceitful” the whole poem
You created what we can’t experience save in your dance of a poem. THIS is poetry.
Thanks, Zimmer! :-{ )>
I love this, David! Such beautifully precise language letting us all recognize our own experience within the poem. What a gift! Thank you’
Thank YOU! drj