JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

They watch who often stand in green
Borders to Horizons yet unseen

As earthy traffic wakes to morning’s blue
And paints today in freshness waked anew

 

Inperceptable at first world’s slumber curtain melts

Milk cobwebs stretch their sleepy wings at cats
Streets stir, trucks cough on asphalt lighted belts

While sparrows chirp in spaces left by bats

 

Too soon dew drops forget themselves like dreams

Reluctant eiderdowns let in routine chills

Kettles, clock radios boil and sputter steam

And armies of machinery climb ant hills

 

New jigsaw pieces tumble from dawns box

New neurons slot into old locks