day after day

Tree silhouettes at sunset

Friday was World Sleep Day and Red Nose Day. Yesterday was the Vernal Equinox, the beginning of spring, International Happiness Day and Persian New Year. Today is Census Day and International Day of Forests.

That’s eight days in just 72 hours and doesn’t come close to naming all the high days and holy days that other people celebrate. It’s really no wonder I am exhausted.


Today is also World Poetry Day, so here’s an old favourite from the archives:


          I watch black beetles dart while choirs
of skylarks glorify the dawn and shreds
          of mist braid chimney-stacks and spires
                    in yellowing frills.

          I’ve walked the sheeptracks of your dreams
in search of unicorns, but they have fled.
          Now they graze where honey flows in streams
                    through pillowing hills.

          The cropgrass scratches soulbear feet,
and each blade wounds. Too much is left unsaid:
          I choke on words made bittersweet
                    from swallowing pills.


Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

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