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Sad Is the Incautious Hunter
The target keeps shifting
brains fly around, bad ideas rain down.
There should be no limit of 'takes'
for the hunting season,
for the sky is thick with dumb notions.
Some are just silly, some are malignant
Good intentions quack like ducks
feathers flying, beaks flapping like fork.
Just when we think the sky is all clear
here comes a kamikaze goose
dropping turd-thoughts.
It takes a keen eye to clean up
unless one smacks you
because you forgot to duck.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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