A Particular Moment

There's a motor running somewhere
Past the river's rising mist. It's
Pumping water for the corn, which
Can't be seen. The air is cool and
Carries not another sound. The sun
Is newly risen, bright, and I, beneath
The oaks and maples, make my way
Toward the paper. Sunday mornings
Have their charms, I think, and then
I read.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 25 times
Written on 2013-07-28 at 14:07

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