Every day, the sun sets <br />you noticed? <br />in a great, glorious performance <br />of wraparound scenic splendour <br />as if it were the last day of the world <br />(we'd sue) <br /> <br />and all around the world <br />poets who've been chewing on their pencils all day <br />or gazing steamy-eyed at an empty screen <br />without as we poets say, the Muse whispering <br />an ode we're owed <br />as poets <br />wonder if it could be one last chance <br />to write the ultimate sunset poem <br />to get something down today <br />and justify our existence beyond existing <br /> <br />noting that at sunset <br />the red flowers in the garden glow so intensely <br />that you can feel it on your eyeballs <br />and the sunlight just when the sun disappears <br />lights up the whole landscape like a floodlight <br />on the stage set of our lives <br />that sort of stuff <br /> <br />then next morning the sun <br />rises on our ultimate sunset poem <br /> <br />and later sets<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hallmark-of-poetry/
