No, not tomorrow.
not even restless.
Badgered by imagined distances
that entered with the sleepless nights.
Should I tout the blues,
remainder fussed-over misgivings?
May and still the trees are without leaf.
Geese have flown by,
How many others have gone reckless,
How many have been left,
left to be something other than unimaginable
or than somebody else’s fact?
So soon, already coffee grinds, outcroppings, aches -–
the list extends past seas and skies and other ordinary things.
* * * * *
Frank C. Praeger is a retired research biologist who has had poetry published in various journals in the UK and the USA.