–
Writing all night left me drained, undone…
in need of a walk streaked with early sun,
but winter has the sun still earth-blocked here.
Leaving dark porch for windy street I felt fear—
a large black cat broke cover on my right,
crossed third street like blown trash and dropped from sight.
Though not a lot afraid, I was enough
to bear left, my fourth draft celebration walk.
Discovering cause for joy at all was rough,
re-reading the static scenes and wooden talk,
but Five could improve, Six just might be great.
Plays almost write themselves when the hour is late.
So why push my luck tonight? A black cat
says South’s taboo… I can live with that.
in need of a walk streaked with early sun,
but winter has the sun still earth-blocked here.
Leaving dark porch for windy street I felt fear—
a large black cat broke cover on my right,
crossed third street like blown trash and dropped from sight.
Though not a lot afraid, I was enough
to bear left, my fourth draft celebration walk.
Discovering cause for joy at all was rough,
re-reading the static scenes and wooden talk,
but Five could improve, Six just might be great.
Plays almost write themselves when the hour is late.
So why push my luck tonight? A black cat
says South’s taboo… I can live with that.
© 2009 Edmund Pickett
(This poem may be copied or forwarded, as long as you retain the copyright notice and author’s name.)