Three Exercises

Morning coffee beckons
like nothing else I can think of.
Like bacon and eggs, like
autumn leaves dying into October.

Some other poet will come up
with an inventive simile
to describe its allure.


I'm waiting impatiently
for that first autumnal evening
in middle August,
where the humidity
doesn't weigh upon me
like leaden sins of the flesh
only half repented of,
or worries about tomorrow.


Stomping the pristine snowscape
with the sooty boots of words.

I hear a howl in the thicket
just beyond the field.

Poetry by Thomas D The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2020-07-27 at 13:07

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bibek adhikari The PoetBay support member heart!
They feel like workshop exercises. It's interesting how you juxtaposed all there of them into a single poem. I especially like the phrase "leaden sins of the flesh" and "sooty boots of words."

I don't care what you say, your distaste of the heat is poetic enough, let the thicket keep Autumn for now.