about three feet high
a baby twister explodes
what Iβve raked all day
πͺπ
Copyright 2020 Bruce Jewett
about three feet high
a baby twister explodes
what Iβve raked all day
πͺπ
no bread crumbs, no baths
sparrows are sighing
since you moved away
her papaβs futon
dappled with mandarin peels
she brings a fresh bag
sacks of mandarins
clusters of freshly picked suns
winter addiction
fug of unwashed sheets
starfish of peeled mandarins
too late for flu shots
harmony of fall
ticking of the clocks
blending with raindrops
backlit by sunlight
each maple leaf turns crimson
lifeβs a burning house
winter late this year
I can hear robins bicker
with travel planners
a strong wind today
breaking off branches
plays fetch with shasta
at a traffic light
chestnuts play knock-knock
upon my car roof
a lying, false spring
seducing the buds
disrobe in winter
my rotund belly
a hearth for the cats
purring and snoring
a diehard cricket
missed the last bus home
chirps christmas carols
quicksilvery squirrels
streak across asphalt
speed of autumn light
weatherman forecasts
scattered ember storms
California burns
Guitarist / Songwriter / Blogger
Poetry, Fiction & Photography
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Spiritual isn't non-physical, it's an elevation of the physical
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
a collection of words about my average, bog-standard life accompanied by some sub-par illustrations that depict selected moments in said life
Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
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