I meant to put down shadows 'cross the hale Face of these sun-washed green lawns blue skies fence With nary cloud but tis a white puff hence, How that September'd wink in tow t'avail, Our hopes of was't vacations? in betrayl Capped ere yet realized with a haunting sense Of sheer conclusion, kneading rye dough thence, Tae whip a sheet cake up like joy's not frail. Poke myr'ad holes and trickle as it were The strawb'rry juice in for dessert, and to A fault I'm drained 'fore sundown in a poor 'Scuse. So I washed my hair at midnight's cue, And showered after, to drift off, til fer All that how Sunday nudges me anew.
27May18a
...I managed two sonnets ere breakfast, intending on this after dinner dishes, but making bread characteristically fatigues me, and what is new?