Each Summer morning,
nascent words I skim.
Letters are budding,
sentences forming.

Through my parsimony,
papers I’ve trimmed
for digital words,
I have never heard.

Across my phone screen
my thumbs are flicking,
all the while longing
for ink-stained fingers,

resorting instead
to silent clicking,
once again I turn
a digital page.

All of my news,
I have aggregated.
Within my smartphone,
I have all I need.

Local newspapers
feel antiquated,
yet each day I wait
for my prescription.

As day turns to twilight
and then to moonrise,
with The Daily medicine,
I became wise.