The Poet by Joan McNerney

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The Poet



It is the white hour

between deep night, soft dawn.



I have known no sleep but

my eyes blazed back at the

stars this night.



Walking by the river

soft murmuring while

long poems

intricate exquisite

shaped themselves

glided across my mind.



Faint indistinct…like

a love I have known.

Quiet passion gentle

smooth. Cotton

clouds in a blue sky.



Haze of hours half-forgotten

melon moons crackerjacks.

This is a kind of sleep

in a way, enchanted.

Half in out of this world.



The sun rose…

another golden flower.

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