A Poem for Wednesday

Day breaks.
Shades of an old slumber
burn off. This affably dawning star
who cradles our petunias, kisses our blank fences,
is in truth a colossal inferno, roaring mute,
raining fire on us from so far distant
it feels like morning.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s