Today was a tough one.
I wrote two poems about
excuses, but they weren't
very good.
The clock whizzed by
from morning to evening.
I noticed our neighbors
lined their gutters
with holiday lights,
and my dog watched
out the window with
a giant drool falling
from her mouth.
After hearing a discussion
about Wordsworth two times
on my Ipod I vowed to never
write another nature poem.
And then I realized I couldn't
see past yesterday's leaves
that were flat and vibrant
in the warmth of the sun and
today are shriveled and dry,
ready for their kamikaze dive
as the wind shook their branches.
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