"ALL NIGHT"--A POEM THAT WROTE ITSELF

(click to enlarge)

And sometimes the poem writes itself. Went outside to walk the dogs, saw the effects of 48-hour and still-ongoing rain. Returned inside and the poem scratched itself out on the kitchen counter:

ALL NIGHT

the rain was soft

But morning reveals
the gravel washed out
the camouflaging mist
the empty flagpole

Morning reveals mourning--
the gentleness of cruelty

(I edited last handwritten line.)