Okay, in theory, I am three poems behind and have none for today. (Yet.)

To cover for April 23, I took Joanne’s wonderful suggestion about the camels and wrote a small acrostic whose final line makes up today’s title.

To cover for April 24, I wrote from a line in Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha which Jaime quotes from.

First a shadow, then a sorrow,
lapsed from wood to covered road.
First a ballad then lament
as footsteps brought the traveler home.

Spin the world as I spin forward
searching for the light inside,
testing self against all darkness,
bringing shadows on the ride.

While we bring the wider sorrow
home, home sings its own lament:
where once was fire and love embracing,
all but what we’ve brought’s absent.

To cover for April 25, I stole wrote something inspired by Diane’s comment on dandelions:

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
creep dandelions through the sunlit hours
to the last photosynthesis of time.
They’ve lit each of our yesterdays, we fools
who weed by chemical, hand-pull them out,
their candle color fading down to shadow,
their tale deemed insignificant
no matter what our lawn-borne fury.

You can guess that I prefer weeds to manicured lawn, I take it?

Ah, well, I’ll have to manicure twice tomorrow night; three risings-above-drivel may be enough for tonight.