Hidden - Poetry by Ira Joe Fisher

Hidden

We’re too near a city

and our own town

powders night with light

hiding the stars we seek;

or should wish to.

Dim is a cruel word,

and gone, even crueler.

Light is kind

to farmer, to reader

but pin-pierced sparks

that stay (I’m told)

and glow to gold;

ought always be seen,

to comfort and send

an essence of sun

in small beams

that neither burn nor blind,

but (so I’m told),

only glow to gold.

---

Ira Joe Fisher

Email: irajoefisher@gmail.com

Phone: 203-912-1457

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Hidden - Poetry by Ira Joe Fisher