7200
seems like ole man winter
aint finished doing business
whereat get dem self up
in fine fetters and cuss
madly jabbing, gesticulating,
and damning e pluribus
conveniently, deliberately,
and selectively forgetting unum
until...cupboards bare wren, emergency food stash
mice eaten, and refrigerator empty
and there you stand with a growling tum
hmm...perhaps hastening to the wine cellar
scrambling for a jug of rum
which ample downing might be
a panacea to hibernate,
and deeply slum
burr until dawg days of summer,
when fruit trees bursting,
and being alive feels plum
ripe with nary a worry in the world,
oh...mebbe best to telephone mum
(real name Chrys Anthem),
and share cornucopia
as life for thee goes hum
ming along swimmingly
and haint nuttin tuff heal glum
about, now take another sip
and breathe in from
smorgasbord mother nature didst spread
vibrant flora and fauna
sights and sounds rhythmically,
poetically, and hypnotically drum,
where the prevailing mood
finds one markedly chum
me scales fall from ones's eyes,
a former bummed out skool of hard knocks alum,
now just kick back and become seduced
while listening to chic chick hens roost
scampering, grunting,
and buzzing capers moost
pleasant since renaissance
of spring finally loosed.
