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2003


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Two Poems

Summer

Like a lilac breeze, the summer flows,
Whispers over blue vinca vines, and brings to the nose,
Escape from the noxious, worldly rigmarole,
It calls like Calypso—no, never go.

Cyan laps at the roots, sunken into the sand,
Sun-blessed leaves lie languid, unplanned,
The heat drunk brown bee rests a minute offhand,
The pulse of life slows in this wonderland.

A fresh squeezed lemon, some sugar, some ice,
A hammock to lie in, enjoying paradise,
In the peace of a dream, the mind’s left to device,
Proud summer—other seasons don’t suffice.


A Window

Soft sun laps against the highlighter orange of the chicken’s legs,

Whispering breezes lift the spice of freshly sharpened pencil from the sliced grass,

Aimless clouds drawl across the torn paper of the summer sky,

Panting dog’s padded paws kick up eraser crumbs from the scattered gravel.

But I can only watch this from a window in my room,

Penning English homework on a Sunday afternoon.


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