Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
That all I got.
Not feeling it , boo.
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#100Poems
#100Poems: Number19
Chickie chickie
Chirp chirp
Sittin’ on the porch
Eavesdropping
on the trees.
#100Poems: Number18
#100Poems: Number17
I sat alone reading a book
In the afternoon Light.
The wind blowing gently
Through the trees
Stirred the new leaves
Into expressing their Joy
As a dance of Shadows
And Sunbeams.
A late afternoon Ballet
Across my lap as I sat
By the open window
Reading my book.
#100Poems: Number16
Weekends
come too slowly.
I’m ready to party,
or maybe I’ll sleep-in longer.
Yes. That.
#100Poems: Number15
an end of the term haiku…
rock paper scissors
time to grade the term papers
bring on the coffee!
#100Poems: Number14
I parked by the street today —
intent on getting my 10,000 steps.
Or is it 8,000?
It doesn’t matter.
I’m not going to do it anyway.
I let the motor idle with the A/C still running
while a favorite song plays.
My eyes wander over to the man at the bus stop.
He’s old.
Old in that way that reminds me
of weathered sepia-colored prints
from the early 20th century.
His coat is a nondescript brown.
So are his pants.
And he wears a hat. Not a ball cap.
A hat.
He sits patiently. Waiting.
A modern still life in the city.
Suddenly, he reaches down by his feet
where a crack in the sidewalk hosts
a collection of weeds.
He plucks a baby dandelion from the debris,
yellow, and full of life,
and sticks it in his faded lapel.
