July 28: Rainy Sunday, "Citronella Nights," New Poem, New Cartoon

It's been a pretty crummy day.  I woke up to rain, and it's pretty much been raining/misting/fogging all day long.  I didn't go for a run.  I didn't feel like running.  However, I went for a walk with my wife, so I wasn't a complete slug.

The rest of the day, I worked on my new poem.  I'm pretty happy with what I came up with, considering I struggled to find inspiration on this dreary day.

Perhaps Saint Marty should have written a poem for the newest member of the royal family.  Maybe next week, George.

Citronella Nights

Three flames swim in wax
before me.  They gutter
orange to black to orange,
as if they can't decide
to burn or go cold,
let the hot liquid harden
into something green as ripe
watermelon rind, full of water,
the promise of pink relief
from July's citronella nights,
when porch lights bring mosquito,
the slap of moth wing against
screen and window, the moon
heaped like hay in the sky
for the slow, bovine chew
'til morning.  As I watch,
one flame surrenders
to smoke, ash.  The other two
hold on to their fire, perhaps
sensing the Queen Anne's lace
of August, dipping, nodding,
bending in a field of rain.
The wicks burn, give off
the candle's scent.
Wild, summer strawberry.

Confessions of Saint Marty