Canto CCXC

A scream from each household pierces the evening.
From every living room we hear the yell
of grown men unafraid to share their feelings.

My daughter stirs a moment, then she falls
back into groggy slumber, rowdy males
are yet to take their needy, show off toll

on her unhatched impatience for tall tales.
So much human happiness depends
on a white ball bouncing up a field

then bouncing down the other end again.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Jul 17, 2012 @ 09:44:04

    I like the thought that if you had had a son then this poem would have been completely different. In fact…your poetry would not have been so good.

    Reply

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