The ballots are cast But they are still counting Predictions come faster Than a fire hose fountain Despite our exhaustion
The ballots are cast But they are still counting Predictions come faster Than a fire hose fountain Despite our exhaustion
Cicadas return They now sing summer’s swan song The sun will set soon
Asking my Lord’s help Keep me from hypocrisy Today and always
Mid-August arrives Yellow buses fill the streets Summer always ends
Windows are open Chirps of crickets in the breeze A soft summer night
Leaves are lit from the street lamp behind Still bright green from springtime sprouting Still glistening from Sunday’s rain Waving
My poem-a-day project got off to an awesome start I would forego commerce, preferring to make art Then my time
Spring is springing The birds are singing It is a sunny day But the temps remain frigid This March lamb
Kissing tyrant ass Pretending he’s a hero Kim Jong-Un trumps him