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what i know, now.
by Charlie Morganclouds giggling like kids at play,
the day rolls over like a puppy;
dumps all the clouds, squeezed-dry,
their bellies tickled by the sun.
rain attempts to build an ocean;
her tears joined the pooling puddles.
soon she cried an overflowing river,
already salty, it too sought the ocean.
spring grasses were devising
a plan to escape the winter;
they will sleep in a cacoon
of chlorophyll and readiness.
i should tell someone about it;
nature is moving on its own and
not telling us about it; i was
in cognito, i toted the NYTimes. 10/09/2009 Posted on 10/09/2009
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 10/09/09 at 08:08 PM It is interesting to me to think about the ecological functions of newspapers and newspaper boys - extracting me from my shell just long enough for that swift walk out to the sidewalk - hoping nobody comes by to see me in my pajamas? Long question, huh? Anyway, I also have to bow in your direction for your appreciation of this weather. It is getting on my nerves, but thoseare the selfish nerves - must remember that this will end the drought in central Texas, hopefully. Thanks chazman. |
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