Poetry of Issue #7        Page 60

Mood

Lovely new, good mood
you visit me like a floppy cloud
filled with warm rain
blown to land’s end
and halfway back.

Tumulus of cumulous, off-lit,
squarish in my mind you sit
unpeeled like an orange,
golds suffusing blues,
vanishing, twinkling into view—
like a chunk of dry ice
you sublime by your own rules.

New and presently blue
you leap for the sun like Pegasus—
yet bit by bit, you’ll go,
this I know is true—
for no one can hold you
when your cords undo

and off you’ll go
like a helium balloon to the moon
to whom you’re elated
to be distantly related.

  Robert Dickerson