| Author | Message | ||
| M
Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4501 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention You and I Paul Lyons Come sit by the fire. There’s a blanket. I know this weather walks the roads and toils the bales you long ago left to younger backs and knees. You and I have stood this ground before in thunder and in silence; let the spray soak our heads, let the sun cure our skin. We never saw the southern hemisphere, but I imagine it’s not too late to pierce our ears, dangle silver hoops to mark our departure for warmer climes dressed in basic black. Our cuffs will grow rough beneath our tapping heels. Humid darkness will soil our formal pleats, the better to sway and mark the time of another generation’s songs. We should dispense with shaving, let our beards grow to our knees. We could dance without our trousers hiked high across our bellies, slung low to let our underpants show white in the bonfire that softens hands and straightens backs and limbers knees and dries our beards and eyes. |
