This time of year, the side of Mt. Diablo
burns orange with the fireworks of wild poppies,
as if Hekoolas has spilled all the paint
that she was saving for summer sunrises.
She will have to make do with just
the pale pink of water-washed blood
and the bright blue of discarded robin’s egg shells,
swirled into the dusty, reluctant pewter
of taciturn morning clouds.
During summer train rides to San Francisco,
I used to watch the sun rise over the mountain,
feeling my heart swell and my breath disappear
as the goddess mixed her paints to reveal the mood
she had chosen for that day.
My fellow under-caffeinated travelers,
easily addled in the fog of the commuter’s ritual,
looked down rather than up,
their heads bowed as if in reverence
while they sought enlightenment,
or at least a meditative distraction,
in their next game of Candy Crush.
Poetry Month 2018
I’ve resolved a few times to write a poem a day during the month of April, and I actually succeeded once. I’m again trying it out. No idea what each day will bring. Some light verse, some politics, some “oh shit I didn’t write anything today” haikus. If you read one and feel moved to comment, please do. If you want to share your poetry, please share!
PS: Today’s poem prompt was simply a random thought
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