Day Twenty-Eight: ‘Composition.’

April 28, 2015

It’s like drifting to sleep on a wood bench
in the quad, candy April sunsets

offering their sugar. Or a quick rain
of sparrow tweeps overhead as you lie there,

dreaming outside the roof window.
Like the orange shadow of a campus lamplight

sweeping in closer, swallowing the oaks
and thick grass, devouring the evening.

It’s all of this when you get it right
and worse than blind deafness when you whiff.

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