rstones33

I've been trying like hell to write a happy poem - or at least not a terribly sad one. Here's my attempt:

Complaints were common as pennies:
winter had settled in
like consumption,
days burned on short wicks,
leaves and grass were extinct.

Then chickadees and juncos
glided through the back yard easily,
like they were too light for gravity.
Their songs chimed like pocket change.
We whistled along.

It's a start anyway.

Let's see - I got paid today, bought some Scotch and some beer, the weather is looking good for the weekend and I have no obligations. Good stuff.