The Dave

Once again, the title sucks, and criticism is always helpful

Dialect and Dialogue

One night I saw Robins and Blue Jays
Explode in the twilight and paint the
Skies with all their Western glory.
I thought it would be suitable to write
And relay the love that engulfed me
On that sweltering day in July.
I wanted to be like a poet, in an ancient
Court, and set to words the images
Of those two wooden arms, extending
From the ground in
To the heavens in
Glorious honor of the stars that
Had taken the place
Of those birds.
But, there are no words to tell about
How jovial the angels must've been
To paint me a picture, with such beauty.
It seems there are no homes for writers
When the Earth can give us the
Beauty of a crackling creek or a mighty
Mountain that could never be depicted
With dialect and dialgoue.

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