Words
don't come.
Where are you poem?
Surely a poem a day is not too lofty a goal...
Write yourselves down!
Make yourselves
known!
Don't
hide at the back of a dusty shelf
unread...
alone.
***************************************
five long droopy days of summer in March have passed
given way to glorious spring.
A cloudy morn
it's cover blown off at noon
cheery sunshine smiles down on the garden
of many colored nasturtiums