Sunrise vs. Sunset
Rumble in the Jungle
In this corner we have the cool air of a fall morning, the sun throwing a few practice punches at the day, jabbing through the branches of the neighbor’s tree just like Muhammad Ali. And in this corner we have the lukewarm indian summer breath of breeze, ecstatic squirrels hiding nuts beneath the sky blue to bruised to gold to blood, Foreman falling with a thud.
This poem gives a whole new take on shadow boxing.
I always love a squirrel poem!