Saturday, August 18, 2012

An Atmosphere of Happiness

The rain has fallen, but the ground is dry.
An atmosphere of happiness prevails
In spite of everything gone off the rails
Beneath a dark, impenetrable sky
That threatens more rain, though the hours flash by
And nothing falls except the nightingales.
Sunlight attempts a struggling coup, but fails:
Even the half moon rises with a sigh.

I have a headache, my right hip is hurt,
I'm leaning to my left and squinting down
At crabgrass, desiccated, limp, and brown,
Ensconced in flyaway eroding dirt,
And, putting on a fresh new tie and shirt,
I choose which shade of red I'll paint the town.

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