Disperse all candles!
It is time they rally, and man their posts!
For only their drunk, flickering flames
can combat the cruel winds of
the New England coast.
Spring, please fling me
into the cold spring
flowing beneath
the soles of my
shoestrings.
I do indeed
have some myrrh,
and balsam fir to barter with
the whisperer emperor of summer -
to regain the rain before autumn’s reign
remains a drought of pain throughout the plains.
About the Creator
Kale Sinclair
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd | Zen Practitioner
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!
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