Weather report
Says thunder, sky's been getting
Gloomier as the day goes,
I suppose.
Today is made of a lack of cheese
And overripe plums,
Curling toes.
Arms around my little brother
Lifting him higher to see a shelf,
Maybe so
He's eleven now,
But it's not hard to pick him up. He wanted to see the sand dollars.
I sat in the swingset
This afternoon,
We started a movie and didn't finish it,
I'm writing poems
That aren't poems,
More like hazy woes.
There's sunlight still
On the windowsill
And making shadows in my closet, but
It's colorless.
There's wind outside, a little.
I won't reread this,
Bah, who knows,
Today came as it goes.
