Sunrise 1/3/24

without the sun

Photo by Jonathan Potter ⓒ 2024

The empty ditch of January
That borders December's leaf-strewn yard
Reflects no sunrise in the weary
Beclouded morning falling hard
Upon El Niño's muddy, boggy,
Unending grayness wet and soggy,
Depression's weather's discontent
For when the year's already spent
Before it's hardly yet beginning,
When we collapse onto the couch
Of hibernation where we slouch
And drink until the room starts spinning
And morning turns to night and fades
To black, no need to draw the shades.

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Note: You might notice that the above is a specimen of a peculiar form known as an Onegin stanza or Pushkin sonnet. I’ve written a few others, some of which you can find here.

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