Weathering
It’s all just weather,
all those whispering looks,
those clay-sucked boots,
those truths rendered
out of weak worms and
metaphor rabbit holes,
all those empty houses,
banging doors, and cawing
crows when heaven laughs.
And why am I
so old so soon …
Time blows across my heart,
but it’s all just weather,
all just another front.
Day 23 NovPAD: write a prelude poem
+1 to that. A lovely sonnet asking the big questions face on. Have so enjoyed your November daily poetry; the month draws to a close too soon. Have you thought of publishing them as a chap-book?
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I’m delighted that you’ve enjoyed them. Oh, and I’ve put together a chapbook every November for the past 5 years for the NovPAD chapbook challenge. Honourable mention a few times, which was nice. Might reconsider the older ones, tweak a few and resubmit them properly.
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It's Still Life 
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