At winter with the cold
For a trace –
Also, keeping warm
Before outliving our old
Their thighs we grace
For seeds to form
We whet the days
As agilities spring,
We gather in the sheave,
The reap of our ways
For the values we bring
Are worlds we weave
For this we make hay –
Early rise from east to west
Racing under summer harshness
Sweats must count today
With our trees at their best
The pain mounts less
Caution in the wind
And gains far from sight
Yet energy gushily zap
The fall is too steep for a win
It's the autumn of our might
We should bow with a cap
Else,
Carry-on with the ride
With unblinking gaze
Look up and reach in to refresh selves
On this principle we abide
Till we sleep to wake in our place
Oh, finely feathered fellow
with plumage of green and yellow,
your Houdini-esque abilities
and astounding circus-like agilities
make my flabby jowls drop with surprise
at how easily your hooked beak can prise
any dwarf-sized opening in your cage,
to open so easily, under your gauge.
Your stuffed, fat, feathered body can
fit through anything. Yes, I'm a fan.
Your squeaky, squawky, shrill talking
lets me know my efforts you're mocking
as I try to burglar proof your cage
as you shriek at me in indignant rage.
You really should hope that I succeed
because if I don't, the cat you'll feed.
04/04/2013
~~~ for Suzanne's Synathroesmic Cat contest ~~~
Darkness comes at the worst of times.
Self pity has to be the worst of crimes.
Being the target of your own disrespect,
Has an extremely powerful, negative effect.
Spending your life questioning your own agilities.
Unaware of the power in your own abilities.
Constantly wondering if you made a good attempt.
Or are you drawing further away from what you were meant.
Trying to piece your life together, has to be worthless.
A life long puzzle that appears to be meaningless.
How can one dig out of a hole?
When the hole that they dig,
Is dug deep in their soul.
How can one see light in the dark?
When the dark that they see,
Has left a big mark.
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