Desk, Pen, Whiskey, Paper

And so I sit
doing what they say
    writers do.

So, what definition have I been given
festering here with bourbon
and old oak barrel at my side,
commending the ol’ adagial way,
sloshing it around with my tongue,
toasting that Kentucky corn husk,
the beating sun and cooled moonlight
of its youth

as I write, and mull,
and think long thoughts
of you?

All Rights Reserved: Elizabeth Bohlander Wilson