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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!