Out Like A Lamb

Spring lambs in masses
Are blocking the road
Through high mountain passes…
Those aren’t sheep! It snowed?
Wait, it’s April Fool’s Eve.
Did you jump the gun?
Oh, winter just won’t leave.
Ain’t climate change fun?

Wait ‘Til This Year

On Opening Day
Everyone is equal for
Twenty-seven outs

Projectionists

It’s said that dogs
Are man’s best friend
But not by dogs.
While we pretend
They understand
Our every word
That we might theirs
Is just absurd.
We get along
At times there’s love
But friendship-wise
Push comes to shove
How likely is it
Dogs would choose
A human over
Leather shoes
A squirrel carcass
Bacon fat
Or cheese?
We’re friends.
Let’s go with that.

An Evening Of Astranatomical Excitement

The planets line up
And drop into the sea
Like my ducks never do:
Jupiter, Mercury,
Bright white Venus, red Mars,
Then, as little boys swoon,
A brief glimpse of Uranus
Right under the moon!

Happy Happy

Birthdays happen every year.
It doesn’t matter if we’re here
Observing or to celebrate,
They just occur. They will not wait!
Birthdays, everywhere we look!
Don’t try to tell me that we took
A trip around the freaking sun,
There’s just no way another one
Is due already. Just. No. Way!
I’m not prepared for this, okay?
So you can take that stupid cake
And– What? There’s been a what? Mistake?
It’s not my birthday, after all?
Oh, thank sweet God!
So, why’d you call?

Toddler Wisdom

Don’t know what it means
But it bears repeating:
Some frogs are for smelling
And not for eating.

Preliminary Conclusion

Everything we’ve learned
Indicates to all concerned
That we’ll never learn

And They’re Packing Pistils

The daffodils are angry, and
The tulips, too. They’re blooming, mad
That winter didn’t end as planned.
Extended seasons aren’t a fad
They’re glad we’ve brought about.
That’s sound.
The brightest bulbs are underground.

Says The Writer

A washing machine
Is still called that when it’s not
Washing anything

Yellow Bird

Yellow bird high in that tree,
Are you as bright as you can be?
Tell me, mon ami, how can a
Oiseau out-glow a banana
And still be at loose leaf-ends?
Have you no fine-feathered friends?
In the sun your unrelenting
Jaundiceness leads one to squinting,
So if you’d companions near
I missed it when they flew from here.
Are you lonesome? You can tell
Me, ’cause I’m– Oh, you’re gone.
Oh, well.