THE BRIGHTER DARKNESS OF THE FLEDGLING YEAR

The brighter darkness
of the fledgling year
slinks now a little slower in. . .

The gray sky
fails to damp
the sound and feeling,
the pleasure squealing,
the-children-playing-in-the-park-ness
on this falling January evening. . .

And I,
grown up now,
must decide
if it’s time for a little
restorative nap time,
or a jaunt out on the bike,
out there,
to catch some clean, fresh air,
and a bit of fun free wheeling.

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This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry, Seasons, Spring, Winter and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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