on the third day

on the third day

 

 

saccharine Sunday

at the blues farm,

field of thoughts ready to be plowed

benign vessels of sweetened, soulful intimations

 

early rising themes greet the sun with contentment

a lighter shade of words

seeps through the blinds

and the moon rings of night slowly disappear

 

like those repetitive tear drops

that passed for yesterday's rain

in a heart ready to harvest

a renaissance of vindicated vocabulary

 

to imbue the day

with resurrected smiles.

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

8/22/15

Reviews

[gabrielle]

This one is a beautiful poetry of hope, jacob.
The line, "the moon rings of night slowly disappear", is visually perfect.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, gabrielle...

j.