this poetry’s ditch

Yesterday’s meander
so happily lackadaisical
had to someday taper
into an uphill grinding slog
just when the season turneth to thaw,

and the meadows level and lush
in virgin whites and decadent reds
a fountain’s busy pummeling trims,
all carry on in careless frolic
in what may as well be a postcard world.

The eagle is considered majestic
or so esoteric legends depict,
conveniently omitting a little
detail, such as the fact that the eagle
observes cuisines via scavenger eyes.

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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