tomorrow’s dawn breaks optimistic azure
streaming pink hope toward spring as winter skies
peal back to reveal harbingers of hope:
here and there those who worship night cling tight
to deep blue pessimism, yet legions
golden with hope march against nihilism
and dismal fortunes feared by hopeless souls.
he views sunrise with a skeptic’s frown, face
downward turned and heart suspended, cautious
close to recalled failure; his poet heart
refuses either fantasy or golden
nostalgia, and yet his eyes alight, he
sets himself in determined stance to battle
lines—to write for sake of truth and beauty.
david m pitchford
5 January 2013