Fury of wings Branches above A shriek Tiny talons Bounce head Duck! A robin? A sparrow? Red-Winged Blackbird? Trees above More flaps Another wack Squawk Cover head Walk faster Nest too near? Birdy P.Oed No starscape Danger foretold For todays Sidewalk walk Of the bird
a tangle of words treble stanza then braid them haiku a day wrap
sky clouds drift over where the new moon should have been daylight lunar toons
so much happening nothing said seems to ring true wary world watches
aristocracy #progenitor spirit champs the bit for over a hundred years seizing this moment to shackle us all
The fearful fox watched Picnic proceedings for scraps After dark pickings
progenitor fear loud ring in our ears warns this won't be no picnic
When I was very young I received a rubber band powered propeller plane. Not the cheap balsa wood models, but a smaller, lighter design. A light frame covered with very colorful cloth. I remember it as blue, orange, and yellow. After assembly I took it in the yard for its first flight. It soars and flies beautifully right through the open ventilation window under our back porch. The place where lumber, ladders, and spare building materials for my father's ever ongoing house repairs and unfinished renovations. I never found the plane; even when years later I cleaned that area out. From time to time I would search again and again. Where did it go? I still wonder to this day.
For most of my life It ran in strict parallel Within it's privileged shell
Course change late strife Dragged its slimy trail To intersect our tale
It proceeded to foist Mealy mouthed and moist It's fetid festering soul
A global hairy mole No channel change Can stop the strange
Geezer cynic shouts "Let's get ready to grumble!" Complaining ensues
first mash them all up heat and serve in a big bowl fresh hot tea peas soup
And then I heard that grapes were just hemorrhoids on a stick. Put me right off wine for a while.
Statistically I may have twenty years. That's because I'm the luckiest man in the world. But all the things i learned in my first twenty years were the best. So the best is yet to come.
A Scroll Threw Life 