JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

Dawn like a bell shaped flower
rose colored by the rising sun
divests itself of night’s dark globe
which rolls away to reveal
the dewy, chattering, stirring horizon
of a fragrant new day

 

On a sand dune close by
the ocean’s incessant waking pulse
candles of the night – pale yellow flowers
unfold from nocturnal shy slumber
rub eyes with quivering stamens
and watch, as a column of patient ants
returns home from its route march forage
bearing tiny fragments of white vegetation
upwards like flags
and a quiet crab scuttles sideways
towards his own world in the sand

 

And from an untidy sleeping bag
zipped open and spread out
a pair of woolen and mohair bodies
disentwine, crouch, brush teeth
with water from a leather bottle
prepare coffee under a tree
drive off and leave me, my bicycle
and the camera in my eyes
to roam on into an album of a day