How this tropical night
feels like an Arctic night
like six long months
of more darkness than twilight,
more twilight than day.
This morning, hazy
and potentially bright,
turned inexorably
into this lateness,
this lowering gray.
So now sounds
echo solemnly in the dark
and we turn to each other
like wizened Eskimos, saying
remember all we planned?
And slothfulness,
with puppy-soft insistence,
drags us
toward our cavernous beds.
* * * * *
[ I recently came across the notebook where I
wrote out all the poems I composed from about 1977
to 1979. They were such a mystery, visiting
me day and night during this period, begging to be
written--but then leaving me suddenly and for good
when I left Florida in 1980. I have no perspective on
them--don't know whether they're any good.
But I was so happy to find them!
-- EM ]
hope you weren't feeling lonely. I used to get "alerts" when ever anyone posted. I hadn't realized there had been any activity except for on the 2nd. How brave of you to share your own writing with us. I thought about it once for a nano second. That was it. I love the slothful advance on the cavernous bed! Thanks for sharing.
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