There Be a Bucket Full of Stupid

36. The Rose The garden rose by Nature's brush Seems the perfect flower. It sleeps before the autumn moon... Is reborn of April showers. I feel an empathy and compassion For other flowers as they grow... With their aesthetics somewhat muted Compared to the glory of the rose. The End 37. The Daffodil The daffodil in spring will rise And in the garden grow. It will slyly peak its head above The last sprinkling of the snow. Its appearance is a comfort As a tired wintry corpse expires... Giving way to a vernal transformation Only Nature could inspire. The End 38. April's Blessing April's sly peculiarities are a blessing As the dregs of March are born away. Cleansing a tired Nature's tribulations Before the warmth of gentle May. It gives source to seed and germ with Unfathomable colors to flaunt the eye. It plays mischievously upon my senses To humble an enthusiast such as I. Nothing contrasts to Nature's bounty As she releases now her gentle showers... Where orchids give rise to expectation While still meadows bare their flowers. Children... no strangers to April's booty Find joyousness in all her grand oblations. Splashing and sloshing in hooded dress In puddles that stoke their imagination. But April fills me with blissful consternation As she makes bold her diverse complexion. Because I... being me, have done nothing To deserve such encompassing affection. The End 39. Half a Ton Hate must weigh a thousand pounds While love will weigh but one. There are those who find it amenable Ferrying the weight that's half a ton. They seem devoid of sense and reason As to why they persevere... soon Learning the manifestation in the mirror Is all they truly fear. The End 40. Bucket Full of Stupid There is a bucket full of stupid Giving voice to maddening crowds With no obvious rhyme or reason Why they wear a Reaper's shroud. Such times seem justly merited With common sense in short supply Considering the state of education And the inane hebetude it provides. The End