by James B. Nicola
New Yorkers have their Central Park,
The Brits, their daily tea;
The conscientious have their lark;
And science, poetry.
A daily drudger, stuck in park,
Will set forth on a sudden spree
When smitten by the smallest spark
Of creativity.
And all souls howl, as canines bark,
To spite raw apathy.
And you, who dote upon the dark,
Upon request, have me.
James B. Nicola, a returning contributor, is the author of six collections of poetry, the latest being Fires of Heaven: Poems of Faith and Sense. His decades of working in the theater culminated in the nonfiction book Playing the Audience: The Practical Guide to Live Performance, which won a Choice award.