As much as I would love every single one of my poems to be deeply thoughtful, I simply cant crank them out like that. So this is just a little something I jotted down while sipping tea on my apartment porch this morning.
Musings Upon Waking Up
The sweet smell of freshly mowed grass
raises up through the summer air
and tickles my nose as it passess
along on the warm summer breeze.
I take a long sip of tea
letting the chill sooth the heat
and trickle down into my soul
as I open stale pages and wait
to hear the early morning swallows
to peak their hesitant heads out
and begin to sing, to bellow
the mourning songs of spring.
They too were taking note of the heat
wishing there were still a chill
to help ease the 85 degrees
that makes us al sweat until
we’re forced inside for refuge,
the sweet blow of air conditioning
and the calm circle of the fan.
This year will be a hot one.


hours fade,