hundreds of contrails
line up like painted furrows
at new world east edge
hundreds of contrails
line up like painted furrows
at new world east edge
predawn firey morning
peach- and tangerine-shot through
with powder blue streaks
say enjoy your three-day fall
’cause tomorrow back to summer
City bench: air dry .
The walk breeze bereft, sweatwet
but I beat sunrise!
Diamond dust sprinkled
over the glistening grass –
or, is it pearl strands?
I do not do polls,
or watch partisan “debates.,”
TV ads or spam!
Gunmetal gray dawn,
Old Glory proudly prevails
over Lake Monroe.