certainly, this day is about color—
aspen leaves and red chiles, and aromas—
wafting dust and roasting chiles
certainly, this day is about neither.
it is about this screen and work,
dishes and laundry, tension and covid,
november third and uncertainty.
certainly, this day is a dreadful repetition
of yesterday, and every mundane day.
certainly, this day is more than a litany,
it is a palette. as artist i have a say in the outcome—
i am not powerless before it, nor undiscerning.
aspen leaves will not be aglow for long, a rain
will settle the dust, the aroma of roasted chiles
is seasonal, and yesterday was, most certainly, rich
with dishes and laundry and work and all the rest—
a panoply of the spectacularly mundane.
certainly, with perception comes choice.
Poetry by one trick pony
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Written on 2020-10-13 at 15:07
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