Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Small Morning Poem 

I grow accustomed to the dawn,
fond of the sunrise, the way the fog
lifts slowly, whirls around the light
traffic on the turnpike, the sun
like an orange low on the hills
larger than life above the truckbeds.

posted by boyhowdy | 7:35 AM |

I wish I could write poetry like that. Your words remind me of my walk around Esteyville early in the morning.

Maybe I will try haiku.
i tried haiku. it sucks. i suck. not really. i really just used the 5-7-5 with no rhymes. not strictly haiku. i hope you will stop by and read it.
Its beautiful I love poetry.
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