some august afternoon
the great ember rolled
into evenings ensuing blanket
that flanks the sky's end, west
casting shadows in my lemonade
nodding the okay for a light wind
to bring on the cut-grass scent
three or four crickets
rabbits, squirrels and a toad
a pale white moon
blackening trees
star one, two, three
then countless
and the sound of partially melted
ice cubes knocking
as i tip my glass
to the night
Monday, August 11, 2008
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4 comments:
Well done elder Dude. I could hear the ice tinkling and I was reminded of similar evenings past.
I posted the brain game for everyone who goes around hearing ice tinkling in their heads.
My first try I scored a 70 year old brain, then I reread the directions.
Hi Jack: Will you please contact me regarding this poem? Thank you.
Dear every photo tells a story,
regarding your words:
this is a week shy of a year after your comment,
i don't know who you are
and i can't find you.
regards. i tried.
jack s.
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