The Future is Sunny
I’m geared for Thursday.
Sunny, says the weatherman.
Bright as primroses.
Just get me past noon, I say.
Past this dirge of rain that
sops the bark on trees, and
drips like a toddler’s nose.
Sun at noon, beams the weatherman.
What a joker, wearing sunglasses.
I see that our postman’s wearing
shorts today.
NaPoWriMo Day 11: exploring the future
It’s National Poetry Writing Month, which explains the surge in activity. I’m following three different sites generating daily prompts. Writers’ Digest Poetic Asides, the National Poetry Writing Month website (NaPoWriMo) and my old friend, Walt, over at Gnomes. All of these pieces are drafts.
It's Still Life 
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