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78. Fall evenings fall © 8 May 2018 |
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(Based on the Vietnamese luc bat poetic form.) Fall evenings fall so soon; the windows closed by noon, shut tight; the curtains drawn lest light too weak invades the brightly lit and cheerful space. Flame flits in hearth to warm, uplift the heart, with smell of soup, jam tarts, fresh bread, all a la carte fireside dinner. Yet TV guides demand the day’s world-wide newscast. A bomb kills over there, eight soldiers die somewhere, and far away fancy film stars rant, silken voices jarred with beeps. A drug-drugged druggy weeps; some politicians speak about corruption. Stamps and shouts and blood and hurts and pouts invade the family room. Love fades. Fall evenings fall. They’re made for guilt. |