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The World in Present Tense
A Collection of Contemporary Poetry @ The Other Pages   http://theotherpages.org/universe/

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    Summer runs away. Why wouldn't it?
    March snows and snows and I'd
    abandon mountains for October
    Palm Beach light.

    Why not beat the gray Atlantic
    hand on hand, til I'm so far from shore
    I can't see back?

    The fronts come in, come in,
    full bellied, full of snow
    and March mounts no defense.

    I want a certain light. I'll go
    months to find that one rose on my cheek,
    a morning burning up a Mexique town.
    This last of winter makes me weak.

       Scott Murphy, © 1996
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