The Whisky Blot
Journal of Literature, Poetry, and Haiku
I spent a pleasant morning walking quietly around the grounds, searching for them diligently, but as on most days they again remained hidden from sight. I did see several cattle egrets staring deeply into the foliage, knowing that breakfast lay hidden deep within, and a flock of ibis pecking life from the still wet, just watered lawns. Today I even saw a Great Blue Heron admiring herself in the still surface of the pond across the road, and a snowy egret and a little green heron engaged in a silent conversation to which I would never be privy, but in the glare of the morning sun, despite my careful search, not a single poem showed itself, leaving me to hope that tomorrow would bring better luck, or as least a cinquain or a ballade, not my pantoum of failure. Louis Faber is a poet living in Florida. His work has appeared widely in the U.S., Europe and Asia, including in the Whisky Blot, Glimpse, South Carolina Review, Rattle, Pearl, Dreich (Scotland), Alchemy Stone (U.K.), and Flora Fiction, Defenestration, Constellations, Jimson Weed and Atlanta Review, and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Comments are closed.
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