A Tuesday in December
A day of laziness,
of coffee in the afternoon,
of hiding from the elements,
dull-witted, in my apartment.
Tonight, poets will read
at the Armory in Somerville.
I'd like to see and hear them.
Some of them are friends.
But I can't seem to unglue myself
from this damp sluggishness,
this cloud-thick lassitude.
Maybe toward evening.
Rain pocks and blotches
the snow of three days ago.
You'd think that the rain
was a poet himself,
marking up a white page
with disorderly doodles.
Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas

Read 118 times
Written on 2017-12-12 at 21:00




![]() |
Ashe |
![]() |
Bibek |
![]() |
Lawrence Beck |
shells |