This is no leap year
but the months seem to have leaped
without comprehension
this is the state of wellness
that you do not note down
what goes up in the air without
returning, like fumes, like balloons
like dust to autumn
this is no leap year but the little
leap frog sits on its little lily-pad
glaring at the lucid waters before it takes
a leap upward, falls down into the pond
its only consolation is a blink
mine is the sunshine and the varying months.
No comments:
Post a Comment