Monday, July 4, 2011



Days like this scare me into feeling
something new would happen.
After all, the ordinary is ordinary here. 

It is a country for old men. Quiet.
But the growl of a bear tearing at a log
can only mean some intruders are here. 

Squirrels scurry at the sight of a hawk?
It does not happen often for arboreal
rodents toughened after a winter's kill. 

It is a quaint metaphor for the world
out there, isn’t it? The strong get angry,
the small remain fearsome. Both die, too. 

All told, this languid day will see the sun
shine through the morning’s thin sky
grown grey enough to render it empty 

as the city down there wakes up to one
more bland day of strife and struggle,
a pale sun forcing itself out of a blank sky.

---Albert B. Casuga

Prompt: White sky thin enough for the sun to shine through. The sound of a bear tearing at a log. A ripple of squirrel alarms as a hawk goes past.---Dave Bonta, The Morning Porch, 07-04-11

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