This sunny day
not enough
seeming transparent
flimsy as a paper kite,
it’s a pretense, a hoax;
the sun’s a bright enough joke
to poke through
its evanescent scenery.
Only one child
under the bright sun
plays alone
in the garden;
beyond the garden gate
well lost in the wide world
the playground is empty.
Jack D. Harvey’s poetry has appeared in Scrivener, The Comstock Review, Bay Area Poets’ Coalition, The Antioch Review, The Piedmont Poetry Journal, and a number of other on-line and in-print poetry magazines. The author has been a Pushcart nominee and over the years has been published in a few anthologies. He has been writing poetry since he was sixteen and lives in a small town near Albany, N.Y. Harvey was born and worked in upstate New York. He is retired from doing whatever he was doing before he retired.
Sparks of Calliope 