"Sometimes" by Jack Ridl
Sometimes
Sometimes when the young men living
in the old house across the street are
readying to go golfing, fitting
their clubs into the car’s trunk,
they clear their throats in the odd cold
of the June morning. It’s early for them.
I am having a common cup of coffee,
have read a few poems, one by Li Po.
I do this simply to savor the illusion
of this harsh morning brew, that it
comforts the sight of the needles low
on the evergreen leaning over our pond,
the five aging koi still under the lilies.
Photo Credit: Staff