First Page of the New Writing Pad

First page lies fresh, so neat and clean,
virgin white not yet disdained
by scratched out words
or stroked through lines.
What dare I scribe upon this page?

This crisp, fresh sheet
demands profundity–
yet that which clouds my mind
is how bugs dance about
the outside light; or how

a madman half a world away
can pose a threat this summer day
when all the world lies languid
in the glorious sun, and brows
are swept by zephyr’s kisses.

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