October 17, 2019

In Tallahassee, in the heat, I tried,            

Weekly, to purge our wooden, man-height fence           

Of a pernicious vine, arm-thick. I pried--           

Though without proper tools or proper sense--          

For what seemed like hours, to no avail.           

My bolt cutters could not break through the stalk.            

Despite their dents, each day the vine inhaled            

More fence, and dug itself in, hard as rock.

Eventually I succumbed to despair 

And let the vine grow when and where it pleased.


April 4, 2019

Winter yawns and says,
"I'm tired, but I just don't
Want to go to bed."


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