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the moon hangs at half mast
mourns the passing of the day
-  another star burns out
What should I write about today?
Love, death, or foreplay?
It’s all the same
-
Summer grass
Rushing towards the sky
Disregard for itchy ankles
-
The blind old dog keeps watch
On those same porch steps
- Lucky squirrels scurry past
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Cow grazing
Matter-of-factly
- unapologetic existence
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****** death
- The fly swatted
by the cow’s
dung-tipped tail
The turtle wades
In water blistered by the storm
- Bathes politely, still
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