What It’s Not and What It Is

What It's Not and What It Is

It's not the sun that rises.
It's not the moon that sets.
It's not the stars all tipping
On towards the West.

It's not the blackbird singing.
It's not the howling dog.
It's not the fox attempting
Cartwheels in the fog.

It is the darkness looming.
It is the passing sense.
It is the abolition
Of the present tense.
Categorized as Licks

By Arthur Richardson

Very part time poem maker. Retired from paid work.


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