Fred Aiken Writing

Tag: sun

polite weather

in the afternoon,
i go out onto the sidewalk,
stare up at the sun,
and bake
until i'm burnt to a crisp,
or until the rain comes,
though the weather
is rarely that polite

SUNNY DISPOSITION

dripping coal on the floor
as the sun drifts off into the distance
hoping to never be seen again
but probably wrong about its existence to begin with