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The Web Poetry Corner

Mark Smith Curtis


Asheville, NC, US

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Mark Smith Curtis

Early this morning

I rose, I arose

Not as Lazarus, not back from the dead

But as the flowers of the fields

Lifting heads heavenward

Seeking out the life, the sun, the warmth

Too early, too soon, I waited

The moon was cloven

Yellow crescent through broken clouds

And darkness upon the face of the deep

The comfortable suburbs and easy street

With houses darkened window pane

And asphalt cool devoid of cars

Stoplight cycles green, yellow, red

Visions of sunset in my head

And nights cyclic return