Sun spot
Sun rose
even more
wan, morose,
than before
— once hallowed
orb
a yellowed
blob;
lash-less
now:
a sash-less
window
(and how
furrowed
the brow!
— burrowed
into and narrowed
by worry —
harried, harrowed
as that sorry,
scurrying white rabbit
who hurried, hared
it — out of his wits —
into the pit — scared)
that habit
demands stays ope,
in orbit
sans hope —
vision
crystal clear
a prison
drear —
bound
in grip
of round —
trip
only drawn drapes
of eclipse
offers escape
from — slips
dogging collar
of ball and chain
off and — to its choler —
on again
— too soon, too soon!
— or sol’s sole chance
to moon’s tune
to dance:
steal forty winks:
drink deep
draught, sink
into blessed sleep
(no need to count
sheep —
simply mount
and keep
your seat
on night’s mare
— let them bleat
— who cares?)
— ere the glare
of its light
— from stapled-wide stare —
shines bright
on all and sundry —
whetting appetite
for cyclopean eye’s
sight,
which though fraught
with tears,
naught
can blear
— eyelid
raised,
pallid
gazed
at scene
no change
had seen
in range
of weeks —
cloud-veil
seeks
with pale
halo
to part —
a hello
without heart
— eye bidden
to stay
hidden
lest they
see tears
well up, streak
and sear
its cheek
in displays
of feelings
that could place
its dealings
on a wrong
footing, instead
of one strong
and ahead
— perhaps because
none told
it to pause
when sere old
year,
seared, departs
for the cheer
of a new start.
