Folks
Insist Events Are “Meant To Be”, However, This Doesn’t Seem To Apply To Me. What’s Worse, I Believe In A Random Universe, And Mostly, What I Do Is Blunder Through. I Love All Those Who Reckon The Fates Open Every Gate, And Romance Has A Plan, Including Another Charming Man, But I Greatly Fear I’ve Only Stumbled, And Somehow, Wound Up Here. Miss
Peabody’s Left Eye Weeps, Who Knows Why. She Has No Cause To Cry, But A Shining Tear She Can’t Deter Slides Into Dark Fur, As We Hurry To Address This Issue With A Tissue. Maybe She Must, Or It’s The Sun, Or Windy Desert Dust, We Can’t Say, And Dearly Wish This Sad Bit Of Moisture Would Go Away. The
Furnace Belches Heat To Greet Another Cold Day, As The Sun Parts A Gray Shadowed Sky. I In My Bed Lie, A Dormant Thing, Waiting For Spring. I Must Rise, But Warm And Cozy, Not Too Fast, Making The Lazy Moments Last. Sluggish
Cars Come And Go, Striping The New Snow, Moving Very Slow. Not Going Out, I’m Glad To Report, As Usual, I’m An Indoor Sport. Yesterday
Was Spent In Snowing, Whitely Sweet, That Melted When It Hit The Street, But Mantled All The Bare Tree Limbs Windward Clad In Frost, Suggesting Holidays Now Lost, And I Was Glad. My
Hopes Are All Stacked In A Jumble, Ready To Tumble, Wood For The Winter, Food For The Soul To Keep Me Going, Never A Fear Showing, Taking The Chance To Again Dance Nimbly Through It All, And Not Fall. I Got
On This Bus All Unprepared, From A Life Semi-shared, And Rode Across The Hills And Valleys Of Time Making Rhymes, But I Grew Older, And Doom Came To Sit On My Shoulder Before I Reached The Magic Answer, And Too Late, I Realized I Should Have Gotten A Transfer. Listening,
I Can See The Master As He Plays, Alive Again, Arms Outstretched, He Gazes Elsewhere, And Not At The Keys. A Big Man, Grown Heavy With Age, The Music A Controlled Rage Of Passionate Art, Totally, Completely, Owns My Heart. The Concerto Ends And With A Subtle Laugh, He Dissolves Once More Into A Photograph. Six
Crows Gather On The Far Horizontal Bar Of The Electric Pole, A Crucifix Of Power, Lighting The Dark Hour, Humming With A Zillion Ohms, Right Into Your Home, Promethean Fire, Blazing Through High Tension Wire, The Birds Unimpressed, Only Having A Rest. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
March 2024
|