In the Bleak Pre-Winter
Our God: (Ah, cruel! Tu m’as trop entendu!)
Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain.
Actually, it’s entirely melted now
but a Northern Michigan November:
those unbrilliant flakes are overdue
(Refer I not to the CAPS musical—
This year: The King and I, I feel disdain
(whenever) He bows, you bow, we all bow.
Ten minute scene changes are always dull.
et cetera, (One-two-three, AND) ceter-
a, et cetera. Next month: Talent Show—
Dolly Parton medley, homemade banjo.
Regardez at our yard and you’ll have found
all our leaves lying yet upon the ground.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment