Thursday, June 15, 2023


Why do you 
still reek of muses 
and luck, 

of such fraudulent 
portents as 
the way the wind is blowing? 

Were you so 
raised to believe 

in those inevitable angels 
who hover 

over each 
grass blade out there, 
encouraging it to grow? 

I must say that it seems so
from the way I 
could feel you 

in the veritable 
breeze you were making 

as you prayed 
again last night, in the 
usual frenzy 

for clarity's grace 
to be delivered 
through your window

instead of 
for the frivolous,
next opportunity 

to labor quixotically 
for a glimpse 
again tomorrow.