July 4

Dear Readers of Poems

and Other People Who Don’t Read Them

(How Will You See This?

An Existential Question)  We

live in a difficult time

every single day we hear we see

every single day

Something Impossible Happens

this day in summer no matter what

he says whose name will never appear

in these poems this day is summer

more than beautiful more than warm

always summer then nights of summer

air cools  animals sing

sleep, and sleep sometimes comes

and morning, always morning

and always summer.

 

 

 

 

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

6 Comments

  1. moving poem, my dear esther. you said everything about summer and about what was left unsaid as well. it’s very important to say all of it.
    deep thanks!
    hugs!

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