Sunday, June 17, 2012

Cummerbunds and Boxer Buns


I see a poem in everything,
Each vision a mark of time…
My failure pulling weeds this spring,
A moment in life, all mine.

Deferred maintenance signals aging,
Misfiled papers, red flag change…
The ranks of friends and memories,
Scramble as their values rearrange.

Otis stretches in the morning,
His butt reaching for the sky…
An important daily ritual
Dulling my own, in my own eye.

Tuxedos and red cummerbunds;
Some rites esteemed perhaps too long…
Compared to smiles, friends and spider webs
A breeze and one canary’s song. 

Every moment is a snapshot
Bee stings, sunsets, kids and birds...
The human need for acknowledgement
Struggles daily to find the words.
 

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