The Critic

It is a harsh light you see with, A noon light in summer.
Never mind the actual season. Today, that is how you see
yourself. All dark and shadows punctuated with light
that sees too sharply, all that is not so much there
as in your imagination.

About this poem.

A poem about self-critics. Mine and others. Beastly little thing.

The picture was taken not far down the road in Wells, VT.

Tom