The idea of you slacking,
though, is beyond funny
to begin with, and could only
ever be jest.
There is in you,
and in the effect of you,
nothing slack, Miss Mack. Even if
you weren't a regular and comforting,
steadying presence around here, the force
and velocity of your passage
as you come through -
each time your curved trajectory
crossed our tranquil waters would leave
a taut line arcing behind, raising waves
stretching out forever as the shear you make
tears through, girdling the earth like Jörmungandr
and we all writhe, shout, thrash, and catch air -
surfing for weeks in the breaks of your wake. Eh?
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.
Try the RANDOM button, to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.