morning poem, march 23, 2016


I pass this street every day

Its dulled houses and tired business places

All grey and brown.


But today the trees that line its walk

Are floating in blossoms, white as clouds

Each bunch like a balloon, lifting the tree sunward.


This is radiance, and there is no answer

For this brief but adamant word

This scream, this shout, this choral song

This one day in spring

But to acknowledge beauty

Shocking and evanescent

Reminding us again

Of what we cannot name.



Copyright 2016


This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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 )

Connecting to %s