PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Sit (at Beaufort) on the Deck

Sit in the sun

The cold 

Sun

Steam from the cup 

Steam from the breath

Of the dog

Steam

Bouncing from smokestacks 

Across the sound

Down drafts 

It’s too cold

But a book of poetry

Falls thru the cracks of the wicker chair

Back to the wind retrieved 

And open random 

And you read 

As the cold cuts 

The sunset description doesn’t warm

But cauterizes your blood 

In oh-my-god the images

Of sunset slices of blood

On the earth 

Standing looking at the horizon 

And relate 

And chase the dog inside 

To write