Well, I'm running close to deadline here, but hey...that's my style. So, I have absolutely NO idea what I'm going to put down in the next few minutes. Impromptu poem-craft...let us see what unfolds...
POEM FOR APRIL 3
Finding the hostas
shooting sunbound
like rockets from their
forgotten bed
in the cold shade
of the wall makes me lose
for a moment the angry
ant of worry that will not
give up the trail.
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