Parental Advisory

Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Here we propose to posit prose poetry
forming a form of continuous connectivity,
to communicate considerable contemplative reflectivity.

Simply put, we pose this where
prose poetry is what you’ll hear
when wondering where the time went
while reading such rhyme wonderments
as oft are wrought, and revealed thusly,
each whit of wit written Hieronymously.

Look, Squirrels

Rabbits were bounding around in the yard, and
I heard a few deer munching leaves near my garden.
Boy and girl squirrels flit and twirled up oak trees.
This morning’s first light brought me sights such as these.

This morning’s first light was so bright and inviting
that I thought I might set it right down, in writing,
because I knew you should be given fair warning
in case you also like first lights, like this morning’s.

 Dear reader, we’ve been here a while,
through smiles and stormy weather.
We may not like each other’s style,
but somehow we’re still together.

So, to you who read this poetry,
if you have ever been offended,
know that you’re a squirrel to me.
No offense was intended.