A window to the south is rough with raindrops
That, caught in the screen, spell out untranslatable glyphs. A story
Not told: so much not understood, a sight, an insight, and you pass on,
Another day for each day is subjective and there is a totality of days
As there are as many to live it. The day lives us and in exchange
We it: after snowball time, a month, March, of fits and starts, winds,
Rain, spring hints and wintry arrears. -James Schuyler, from "Hymn to Life"
It's National Poetry Month - one of my favorites. A very talented friend of mine took my challenge and is writing a poem a day, so if you have a minute, please visit his site- there's so much life and humor in his work.
1 comment:
You rock Yellow.
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