This is a night that would bear
Hard slumber or consciousness,
This hang of six-hour heat
Lifting off in fine rosettes.
This chill unexact wakens,
This ending attenuate,
Hours misappropriate from
Colleagues and co-worshipers.
Mark me now, and not at the
Iced tip of an evening gone.
There are those who for pure or
Coarse occasion stand vigil.
Others may honor this stretch
Giving over to her tides
In prayer and chaste hypnosis,
Riddle not her clement fluids.
Limerick Ode To “National Short Person Day”
6 hours ago