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First light in PNG (RKH Photography)JEFFREY FEBI

Days are born at first light.
Dead at last light.
Less they care about memories.
Gather, don't they in anniversaries?

Often many a day is grey and boring.
Certainly, a dark day would be raining.
Without winds of determination.
Strong when winds are, it's a confrontation.

But we know a day is ours particularly.
When mild is the heat, wind is airworthy.
Streams refreshing, and noise calming.
A day is great when it's approving.

Many as the stars, may great days be.
And in their last lights, may dark days flea.
First lights herald births of days.


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Michael Dom

Jeffrey, you have a unique style of writing, but when that is chained to a singular mode of delivery, the rudder gets jammed and no matter what you do at the tiller, you just can't turn it.

I've been looking forward to the time when you break out of your narrow course and explore the terrain all around you.

It would be really pleasing to read what charts you plot for us, what maps you draw of those poetic territories.

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