Trying to Write a Nature Poem; Waiting on the Muse

In truth, it smells a medley

out here:

pipesmoke, rainwet grass,

rabbit shit scattered pollywog

across the damp gravel driveway,

the carbon footprints of SUVs

driven past on 194

(gas fumes spilling into

the ether).

Bees hop from flower to flower,

cross-pollinating,

unintentional third parties

in an orgy

of stamen and pistil.

I wait for something

interesting

to happen…

some woodland creature

to come up to me,

stand on its spindly hindlegs,

and say “Hello there!

I am Nature. You have experienced me.

Congratulations!”

It doesn’t happen.

Guitar notes reach my ears

from upstairs (noisy

neighbors).

I am still waiting.

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4 thoughts on “Trying to Write a Nature Poem; Waiting on the Muse

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