A Nickname....

on early dawn
while you are writing those letters
(still on the grip of tradition
emails are impersonal and lack
the sentimentality of distance
and the grace of the
strokes and
tendrils)

you hear those chirping birds
cocks crowing
sounds of the streets being swept
and occasional hushes of the wind
from the sea

your letters sound as though
they are anticipating the birth of the world
on the seventh day
when the Lord said he finally rested

at the end you say what they always write
Sincerely yours,

your nickname.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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