Big surprise. A few days of glorious sun, then the rain. It feels bipolar. Hmmm, there must be a poem in that. Here's today's:
beacons
beacons from a grand opening
send lights across the winter sky
he asks me what they are
I’m pretending they’re angels
I tell him; and say I’ll write a poem
he thinks they’re spirits
but we both agree it’s pretty
my nine-year-old and me
flying through the night sky
guided by spirits or angels
it doesn’t matter which
we smile, happy
2005 Heather Reed
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