It's Not What You Grab, But What You Seize

My life has been the poem I would have writ, but I could not both live and utter it. - Thoreau

there's poetry in the trees

confessions, hopes, hurts and meanings in their raked leaves

swirling honesty in today's bold, brisk breeze

it's the bees knees

holding the keys to a heart's strip tease

between the lines is what best knows and sees

through the holes in moldy swiss cheese

not in weak mandates but rather bold decrees

not all sleeping dogs have fleas

not in all kinds of weather and varying degrees

not all newly divorcees go on shopping sprees

ignoring the rule of threes

able to thaw a deep freeze

incite and appease

push, pull and squeeze

spilling a little of this, some of that, a lot of those and a few of these

it's a good thing when not everything jumps into the pile and agrees

that which incarcerates also liberates and frees

it's not a sleaze

so don't forget to say thank you,

if you would, if you please

Author's Note

"Yet poetry, though the last and finest result, is a natural fruit. As naturally as the oak bears an acorn, and the vine a gourd, man bears a poem, either spoken or done. It is the chief and most memorable success, for history is but a prose narrative of poetic deeds.+ - Thoreau