Morning Star
Morose morn, but sun’s a catalyst, warm
On the eave, the pigeon’s contumely coo,
rids a night’s cumbersome, cold, smother
New day, dearth of dew on concrete lawn
Its dull gray lightened by that eloquent hi
nodding chesty chary iridescence of dawn
Glamor understated or colors long-fading?
Sipping tea by the roost, the bobbing struts
tread decrepit life under roofs, like a caveat
as nearby, shining freeway cars rush, at sea...
roaring mettles endure, seeking 'the' flower
(4/22/2021)
Copyright © Susan Woodrow | Year Posted 2021
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