There’s a hollow, today, in the place
where I expected to find a poem –
perhaps dug out by yesterday’s torrents,
or the mice that decimated my melons,
or the larger rodent
who did in my brussels sprouts

And though the day has had its good things,
they haven’t, apparently, filled the gap entirely.
Twilight flows into its emptiness
and settles like a pool.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 24, 2020