after Seurat
No one could have foreseen
the catastrophe-it rose from
the still water and the sun
blocked out by spring chapeaus
and parasols. They were waiting,
or posing-and here and there a dog
poked at the ground, and the smoke rose
lazily from the boater's pipe. Earlier
a mother wiped an eyelash from her daughter's cheek,
the local rowing crew powered their way
across the water, and the town lush slid vermouth
down his throat.
Sunday Afternoon
Elizabeth H. Nearing
(1)
Poem topics: daughter, dog, mother, spring, sun, local, town, throat, rose, water, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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