I called this 'The Last Sunny Day' but it's really about my Sunday morning run.....
Its the time of year when the hills burn and everyone smokes,
Green alder fires coaxed to life with cans of flaming diesel.
More hope than heat.
I climb a hill with an inscrutable Irish name,
The sky scattered with giant molar clouds
Grinding up the blue.
As the road levels I slow and turn and see your face,
Showing me the other side of things, back lit.
The world is new.
2007-10-15
12:47:59
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12 answers
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asked by
Duncan w ™ ®
7
in
Poetry