Thursday, July 28, 2011


Photo by Bobby Wong Jr.

Shrugging off this cool morning’s dread
is as good as some calming camomile tea:
must be some fall breeze breaking through
the corridor of elms fencing the woods in.

Will autumn repaint all this raw sienna
visited upon this valley by fierce sunshine?
How quickly will all this verdance go?
A tardy spring rushed a stampede of green.

Quite like the unbridled sprint of a boy
whistling for wind to buoy his kite beyond
the bourn, this gallop toward dreaded days
of dying and death is a grown man’s dash

through bivouacs of war. Nothing will last:
rainbow palettes on treetops turn grey
before the pall of winter inters carrion
of happy seasons. Or is it just crickets chirping?
—Albert B. Casuga

Prompt: Another cool morning. Autumn’s in the air, I say to myself, but it’s really just a cricket chirping in the corner of the garden.---Dave Bonta, The Morning Porch, 07-27-11

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