from last spring… it was spring today so it seemed appropriate
A cucumber could not taste as sweet
As arm hairs in a long forgotten breeze
Carrying chattering laughter of weather and what not
Across untidies—ever eager spring—comes grass
From eye level the down low dirt colors summerness
Becomes the pressures on elbows straining this afternoon’s
Latest failed attempt at slashing to to-do list
Waiting for the sun to prefer certain patches, clockwork
The excuses to-do nothing collect armies
Of cross hatched spear-seedlings: a barracks
Against the wide view of impending calendar crossing
–ECW
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2 thoughts on “Poem 79”