poetic license
I feel like a metaphor
staring at a white screen
not knowing what to write
a week before Christmas
or saying I spent the day
driving through driving rain
and wind that wreaked havoc
and never turned to snow
but it’s not the whole story
I met a friend for lunch at
a Mexican place in Middletown
in the middle of the storm
we share history that goes
back to high school in Kenya
and the present in Connecticut
we never imagined in Nairobi
fallen trees and power lines
meant I took the long way home
to help pack and post boxes
for friends who are far afield
but a metaphor compares
unlike things and I am no
different than the details
of my driving and dining
my day was a storm
my night sparse of ideas
ending with an attempt
to make poetry of it all
Peace,
Milton
