Bus Poem #6
A brand new day
structured of planes
of soft, silver light
polygons
its crisp, blue band
unbroken like a shirts', a
brand new day, con-
structed of concrete and golden
polygons
a day for the sighting of land
or a bird thought extinct
precious tanager
ahead a pod of joggers
canters like dear-
polygons
upon their estival existence
like a scorned past
the trees turn shoulder, the
traffic can find no reason to snarl.
dull gold and concrete
kids are kiddish, dogs doggy our
bus trundles crosstown
bumper deep in the clean confetti
of cab-colored leaves.
poem by Robert Dickerson
Added by Poetry Lover
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