Note from Joe: IMHO, the best poetry is written by young poets. Poets over 30 are living on the perfume of an empty vase. Yet here I am, over 50, still attempting it, with deplorable results. That humbling thought led to the following.
Just as bad, I blush to say,
My panegyrics to the Day.
Unwittingly do I affright
The Muses, contemplating Night.
If I were wise, I’d stay as dumb
As my old Muses have become.