Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #94
The Ginger Southern Gentleman
by Belinda Roddie
The ginger Southern gentleman had a
twinkle in his forest eyes as he strolled
along the withered paths all tucked away
within the midst of Stephen's Green. He rolled
an umbrella around in his hand, but
no rain fell from the graying skies. The fold
of his jacket crinkled just from the touch
of his fingers. The sun beat down like gold
dust against his brow, and it didn't seem
as if he were a foreigner at all
or a tourist in the cold Dublin stream
of passerby, coming from Liffey's pall,
which cast reflections in cold cuts of light.
The gentleman belonged in Irish night.
by Belinda Roddie
The ginger Southern gentleman had a
twinkle in his forest eyes as he strolled
along the withered paths all tucked away
within the midst of Stephen's Green. He rolled
an umbrella around in his hand, but
no rain fell from the graying skies. The fold
of his jacket crinkled just from the touch
of his fingers. The sun beat down like gold
dust against his brow, and it didn't seem
as if he were a foreigner at all
or a tourist in the cold Dublin stream
of passerby, coming from Liffey's pall,
which cast reflections in cold cuts of light.
The gentleman belonged in Irish night.
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