Richard St. Clair
Richard St. Clair Poems
Having no interest
in resolving my life's pain,
towering far above me,
they direct my gaze upward.
A bug is bugging me: it is not time
To die just yet. How gray the winter sky
This solstice beating down on me, oh my,
Just time enough to spin another rhyme.
Far off a church bell mournfully is pealing
Monotones appropriate to this day –
I’m tired: too sick, too weary – though I may
Yet find within myself some comic feeling
Neither cynic nor harsh critic could resist: