Musings by The Poet Loriet
Misty Awakening
Trees weighted down
in icy bling bling like
stars lined up on
the red carpet,
support an occasional
tenacious bird
who forgot to fly south
as she sings a wintery aria.
As the snow melts,
the barren ground ,
middle-aged,
with only patches
of green fertility,
prepares for a wedding,
the kind that takes place
after biological clocks
stop ticking,
a lacy veil of dew,
melting snow,
serving as her
opalescent gown.
I suppose the day
is as beautiful as any
optimist cares to see it,
but I remain a skeptic
when it comes to
wedded bliss,
woken harshly by
the sound of alarms,
the dysfunctional marriage
of the previous nights
wine and sleeping pills
arguing loudly with
morning's sunshine.
Lori Beal
in icy bling bling like
stars lined up on
the red carpet,
support an occasional
tenacious bird
who forgot to fly south
as she sings a wintery aria.
As the snow melts,
the barren ground ,
middle-aged,
with only patches
of green fertility,
prepares for a wedding,
the kind that takes place
after biological clocks
stop ticking,
a lacy veil of dew,
melting snow,
serving as her
opalescent gown.
I suppose the day
is as beautiful as any
optimist cares to see it,
but I remain a skeptic
when it comes to
wedded bliss,
woken harshly by
the sound of alarms,
the dysfunctional marriage
of the previous nights
wine and sleeping pills
arguing loudly with
morning's sunshine.
Lori Beal
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Misty Awakening
Misty Awakening
