sick
celebrations of libations and moaning too far away and into the morning.
this emotion has lent itself one too many times
and i can see it to the door, thank you.
shucks
pucks
of ice and lollipops shoot across the yard in the middle of late summer
what might be a brief fall
flying through the cheese balls into the mouths of the waiting birds so patiently sitting.
rots
lots
of empty ones and new ones, yards in disarray and tidy fashion grass to fence to grass.
shower the other with care as much as you water your own or at the very least
relish it once a year with the christening of bare toes snuggled in the depths of its comfort.
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