THURSDAY 30

The square says 30,
it’s a Thursday,
outside it’s pretty. . .

the music felt
on earth, in sky
and sun and air,
in swinging arms
and striding legs,

singing reflex kept
quite calmly, quietly in check,
a peaceful break
from outward ditty. . .

Life is right now,
without, within,
no more waiting
on this date,
late August of
two-thousand eighteen.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Autumn, Days of the Week, Poetry, Summer and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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