Today I found out
That my gift of poetry
Is lacking
What was everyday
And commonplace
Back in the Shakespearean day.
Each night
After the day
They would come
Unto the pubs
To read
What they had
Writ that day,
Everyday!
What I do
Once a week
Was done commonly
Everyday…
And somehow
I feel smaller,
Or rather
Feel the spyglass
Has been focused
To give me
Perspective
In the long view
Of history…
More than 250 poems
Over two years
Makes me
Behind the times
Not on the crest of them.
