Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
That all I got.
Not feeling it , boo.
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
That all I got.
Not feeling it , boo.
Chickie chickie
Chirp chirp
Sittin’ on the porch
Eavesdropping
on the trees.
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.
Weekends
come too slowly.
I’m ready to party,
or maybe I’ll sleep-in longer.
Yes. That.
an end of the term haiku…
rock paper scissors
time to grade the term papers
bring on the coffee!
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.
happy-hopper
treat-begger
hurdle-jumper
joy-bringer
slobby-kisser
blanket-hogger
toy-shredder
squirrel-chaser
laugh-maker
peace-shaker
tail-wagger
who else but
Otis
“Rain, rain, go away,”
said the little boy.
Harrumph went the old man.
“It’ll just come back another day.”
rumbling
rumbling
thundering
storming
rumbling, rumbling sky
sounds from a thundering, storming sky.