Brand New Poem
Not, I think, the kind of thing I’ll send to zines, so I put it here.
Roundel: I Do All Right
I do all right: My daughter’s lost,
But in the rushing wind last night
We spoke as still-green trees were tossed
Almost to breaking, and despite
The years and miles our voices crossed,
Despite myself, we were polite:
A wishful dream; a pentecost.
I wish I may, I wish I might …
Though some night soon there will be frost,
I do all right.
I think perhaps the first line of the last stanza should be “A wishful dream of pentecost.” What say you?