Second Spin

I can smell the crisp, winter air
from where I am sitting.
It makes me wonder how,
but I don't pay much attention to
such things.
My wide range of thinking skills
are left to the imagination.
When I know I should be thinking
about how I smell winter, I'm actually
focused on sunsets and lilacs.
When I should be focused on sunsets and
lilacs, I'm focused on my speaking skills.
On goes the cycle, spinning like a dryer
on second spin.
I can still smell the air, though.
I wonder a lot, it seems.
I guess I need to breathe.
That crisp air may help.
One will never know.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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