there will be no poetry tonight,
the sky is clear and if'n there be a moon
                    there will be light.

the traffic plays a base note tune,
the frost lands softly, a delight,
nothing sinks faster than a frozen balloon.

there will be light,
that shines into the lives of ruin,
gathered in packs, of two or three this night.

the tears that fall on this freezing night, collect in a heated spoon,
there will be a night light,
whereever the homeless sleep, entrances, streetlights of even the new moon,

there will be light,
snow by Sunday a boon,
for the ski hills and plowmen who,
have not made any money to go to Cancun,

but there will be no poetry tonight,
the dog is ill and there is no clue in,
the stars as to what is wrong, but there will be light.



©DWE012014