BUBBLE   4.  –   A Series of daily poems



 Have slept the sleep of the dead,

Eight long hours

And getting up to the stillness

Of a sunny green world.

And, yes, poetry moving and shifting

In my no longer sleep deprived head.

After breakfast, I will gather my spade

And my hedge clippers.

I can see the work taking place,

The creepers I should never have planted;

And the strays.

I doubt if with weed killer I will spray

garden borders and edges today. But clipping,

There will be plenty of clipping.


There is not a cloud in the sky,

Hints autumn seductively! (I think not

After a glorious summer of heat.)


As I look up at the trees,

Soon, soon the dropping of leaves.

Good working days

Making for good nights of sleep.

Benita H. Kape © 18.3.2017


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