Bob Lucky

Poetry

Another gray morning. I sit in the easy chair and watch a Sunbird hang upside down and suck nectar from the Impatiens. The puppy whimpers in her sleep. As hard as I try, I can't ignore a stack of papers that need marking. What an idiot I was to assign Frost's “Mending Wall.” I can guess what I face. A manual on stone wall construction. A philosophical treatise on two sides to every argument. A manifesto against animal cruelty replete with disturbing polemic: if people didn't kill rabbits, they wouldn't have to die.

glimmer of sunlight
the smell of fresh bread rising
in the air