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Sunday, April 3, 2016

Poem for the Day

She smiles and stands at the chrome microphone
The impatient crowd sits in black, hard-back chairs
A camera watches from a low-flying drone.

“It’s poetry, friends, the language of the soul.”
The audience silences their pesky phones.
Anticipation prickles necks with raised hairs.

In the pregnant pause when done, a stomach groans
Laughter intrudes as the ending timer tolls.
She closes her notebook, “Let’s all eat some scones.”

There’s something about outdoor reading affairs
That doesn’t require a firm chaperone
As a poet shares where her mind took a stroll.

Rick Bylina

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