This was a project I did basically during the pandemic. I started writing a poem a day. Once ‘real life’ started again it got harder to write everyday, which is interesting.
old habits
old habits walk
on paths well worn
the ruts of life
the past not shorn
to make a change
requires heft
the fear creeps in
what will be left?
Lucky Seven
Gorgeous weekend morning
Perfect breeze blows just right
In pulls a big truck
Painted color of the night
“Lucky Seven Tree Co”
Nothing lucky there at all
The noise of saw and grinder
Roars in — invading all
The quiet shatters loudly
On this lovely weekend morn
It isn’t even 9 am!
At least you could have warned!
I would have closed my windows
Put plugs into my ears
Instead I sit here cringing
As branches grind through gears
The hum of the machine
Eating all that comes in close
A blank spot now across the street
A tree is now a ghost