Lines Gone Soon After Dawn
These are not the lines
that came to me while sitting
near a lake in the early morning
when I had no pen, no paper.
I thought I might remember
daylight bleaching darkness
from the sky, the innocent pinks
of a newborn day. But the words
in my mind at the lake have gone
like the moon gives way to the sun.
Gone and forgotten once I returned
to the farmhouse busting with
reams of pristine paper and cups
of pens and pencils.
Once again, the edgy lessons:
that timing is everything, that I must
carry a pen in my pocket, that I can
always write lines on my hands,
feet, arms and legs.
These are not the lines
that came to me while sitting
near a lake in the early morning
when I had no pen, no paper.
I thought I might remember
daylight bleaching darkness
from the sky, the innocent pinks
of a newborn day. But the words
in my mind at the lake have gone
like the moon gives way to the sun.
Gone and forgotten once I returned
to the farmhouse busting with
reams of pristine paper and cups
of pens and pencils.
Once again, the edgy lessons:
that timing is everything, that I must
carry a pen in my pocket, that I can
always write lines on my hands,
feet, arms and legs.