Morning Poem, January 11, 2016

 

 

An hour before dawn

I turn, nearly awake

And see the yellow sparks fly

As my sleeve brushes along the wool blanket.

These little bolts are invisible in daylight

Registering then only as static crackle

But in the darkness they are

The evidence of some minature battle

Tracer rounds, canon-fire

Tiny lightning.

 

Copyright 2015

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