Tuesday, January 5, 2021

Daybloom

 Daybloom

poem by e.e.cane

Jan. 5, 2021


sitting awkwardly,

smelling the smoke

the dense burning

house timbers cracking

trees asunder

—the wailing death of dreams

time and again


welcoming innocence,

the child open to nature’s

call—the inward meeting—

looks up small and

knowing it

sees the faces of the

tall ones

moves quickly through

the forest of legs and

condescension,

seeking the lily and

daybloom

finding the ire of cynicism,

the swain of sarcasm—

a plebe’s resolution for a

war without it


the happenstance

of humanity’s fallen

the maelstrom

come

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