we run off the path, orange dog and I
Some try to get us back on it, but why do they try?
We like running off road, it feels better on our feet
At the end of the road a butcher gives my dog meat.
We run off the path, because we can.
It makes some crazy, especially the garbage man.
He toots his horn and points to the road and I laugh.
No one can tell me where to run like a giraffe.
I would give you space
And there would be no pouting
If we did not want to talk for weeks, hours or days
For we would both understand the value of think time
I am an avid thinker and assume you are also.
I used to have my own dark room.
It is gone now, but this makes me well-aware
You might want to share yours, and you might not.
I would respect your decision, and not pout about it.
I am respectful and fancy you are too.
We could talk about everything
but also live in days of silence
Neither angry or sad, knowing
the other was stewing around ideas
I abhor pouting and if you do not, you should.
We could run off and away
Doing impulsive, crazy, hilarious things
Or we could spend years at home
In Lazy-boys, reading our dictionaries
I sense we both love being impulsive and hilarious.
Neither feeling slighted or irritated
That the other wanted their private time
I can think of no better
Coupling than this
I am psychic, and suspect you are too.
Run Off Trump Mouth
Run off big mouth he had the urge
Of America Trump is now new scourge
On his debts did another exclusive
How to women had been abusive
People like Trump we need a purge.
Jim Horn
Fast flowing rivers in spring
Diverting, shooting around rocks
Eroding banks along the shore line
Water moves, furious and icy cold
Rushing along at a hurried pace
Budding trees, cling to surrounding banks
Once barren, new life has sprung
New sprinkling of color among shades of green
Regrowth, regeneration, a new season arrives.
4/4/13
Often
trickle-down
prosperity
evaporates into
thin air.