Outside the lines

You opened me like a book
thumbed through the pages
of boldly outlined pictures
mercurially finding one you

chose your weapon from
boxed arsenal; a sharp one,
new to the point and unused

you are the 64-box of Crayola’s
using all the colors of you to
flesh out the person that is me
the picture that became us

showing all the restraint of a
four-year old for boundaries
the flair of Matisse for nuance
you have always boldly, blithely
refused to color inside the lines

and I like that way.

Antipasto!

Dinner with my Valentine;
wine and Sinatra
Fine haiku-be-do-be-do…

In step

Time
it is said tritely
marches on

its cadence
precise as any
honor guard’s

mostly.

At times time is
less a rhythmic beat
more the tuning
of a cheap guitar

MY
my my dog
dog
has – HAS
fleas.
Fleas.
fleeeeas.

my.dog. has. fleas.

Time occasionally
stumbles,
marches on,
always finishes
the parade.

Self. Centered.

I love to walk alone
in the rain and snow
the colder
the wetter
the better

I hear, understand
nature, myself,
my perosnal nature
a whole lot better

character building
personal challenge; to
prevail against the cold,
the wet, implies some sort
of adversarial relationship
we do not partake

the colder
the wetter
the better
for while tasting fresh snow,
caressing rambunctious rain,
I hear the wind laughing at me
knowing it is nothing personal
for I am truly not that vain.

3 for the 2nd

Boondoggle

Slovenly groundhogs
stay in bed; Tweet conjecture.
Masses pacified.

Misdirected

Celebratory
nod today to the wiener;
happy ground-hog day.

Cozy Den of Iniquity

Wither thou goest
oh, hibernating rodent!
Preach thine prediction!