Monday, August 17, 2020

FOR NAUGHT

Last night, I awoke 
from the dream 
of a poem 

whose music was so 
candid 
and complete

there was no need 
to write it down.
I should have known 

this morning, 
when I bounded with
the all the speed of a mountain

to commit it;
it would simply come out 
as a jangling thanks

and straightforward 
recognition—
that I now always have this

sweet, unblemished 
memory 
to recount.