(I wrote this poem because I've been told that writing poetry helps you become an overall better writer. I entered it into a library city poetry competition so that I would have a deadline to finish a poem. It is so cliche, it's a little hard for me to read and a lot hard for me to publish. But it's a record of my writing and my family, so it goes on the blog. Also, it won a place on an interactive city poetry map and I will link to it here if the map ever goes online).
Winter dusk, like a cloud of lead hits
My boys, their chestnut eyes and moppy-heads
dressed in various layers of flannel and fleece
One son walks with me, hand in hand
The other trails, beating his own drum
One child recounts his day to my ear in low, intimate tones
The other, voiceless, kicks up rocks on the trail, avoiding dogs like ghosts
We pass runners of olympiad stealth and grace
Rickety, reminiscing elderly couples clasp hands, while
a snowy pelican looks into the eye of the lake from its bare-limbed perch
The abandoned swimming area begs for warm summer days
And the public library stands matronly from afar
A lone kayak strays in the water, a dot on a sheet of blue
All have come to the water's edge to seek its effulgent refuge
