This dandelion
This daffodil clump
This dying maple
This brittle skin
Empty mouth
This humorless day
This
And not much play
In me
Days you want to quit
The thing
This thing
And can’t even
Make fun of
Yourself or
Take a ribbing
Find a future
In fuscia
Look for a clue
In the color wheel
Make a new
Throat sound
Quit while
You’re ahead
Early Morning Poems 