Sunday, September 07, 2008

From My Window

A young girl half-runs down this street
without sidewalks.
She sobs as she goes, a dark cloud
belying the sunshine color
of her dress. She is gone
but the street is damp with tears.
An old man prays for daughters
he never fathered.
Night is coming with its accusations,
morning with its forgiveness
and street sweepers.

- Ralph Murre

" prose invents -- poetry discloses" - Jack Spicer


White Rose said...

This was touching. I could feel the pain in this piece and understand it.

Bruce Hodder said...

"Forgiveness and street sweepers"--great phrase. Haiku-like precision on a broader canvas. Like a photograph that also captures feeling.

Anonymous said...

poignant, lovely piece for the beginning of autumn...

Ralph Murre said...

thank you all . . . simply a piece of reportage.