where the words come from
my prayer
is the cold sunlight
on forsythia
as the cooke's hollow brook
burbles and gushes
in the background
as a lone sparrow
bounces along
the hard new england soil
like the consonants
in the verb pipiabat
from that old catullus poem
*
my prayer
is the slouch and slack
of night at the laptop
as i write to a friend
and wonder
where the words come from
Poetry by Uncle Meridian
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Written on 2023-08-12 at 06:30
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