Because it was so clear today
I bought a new fountain pen
so that my words
could match the autumn
sincerity of the breeze going
in & out
my bathroom window.
Flipping the pages of a book of poetry
sitting by the stool. Important reading.
Silence.
And I wonder how it is that
children can keep swinging for hours,
that arc of special gravity only youth knows.
From squeals of laughter
to the delicate ripples on
a red corduroy dress,
I match up these words in blobs
of ink, tracing
what it is that I see
into what I think I should feel,
shrugging my shoulders all the while,
laughing
in the crackling key
of falling leaves
and sentiment.
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