Drops
Call them dots mottling my notepad leaf —
Tiny, irregular splotches
Wrinkling the blue-ruled paper
I'm about to fill, with my hieroglyphic demotic —
Or call them just what they are: rain spots,
In no big haste to dry up.
What name I assign them makes little difference.
I'll write, all the same,
Incorporating the drops, into the soul of my poem.
08/01/09 - (1)
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