When Canada burns,
smoke paints the sky with color.
But we’re all coughing.
(2017)
Notes: I regret that conditions have made it appropriate to repost this poem from last summer.
Smoky Summer Haiku
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When Canada burns,
smoke paints the sky with color.
But we’re all coughing.
(2017)
Notes: I regret that conditions have made it appropriate to repost this poem from last summer.
I love poetry. But I'm picky. No one pays me to read and write poems. It's more of a labor of love. I guess that puts me in good company. This is a project to discover why some poems strike you deep, deep down, while others leave you cold. I've got some ideas, and I'm eager to learn. I'll show you some of mine. Maybe we'll learn something new. View all posts by Bobby Ball
Poetic Champions