A round of toast.

Does tomorrow truly know whichever way the wind will blow

Or will it wait accepting fate and in accord with as is must.

What kind of trust can sit upon the facts of lacking certitude

& the mood of times own attitude manoeuvring at will.

As we learn and as we grow we find the things we need to know

Lest we forget that rain is wet – the sky reveals just how it feels

A hatful of cowboy songs & hillybilly poems

– im home upon the range of lifes own lessons.

Short poems with simple words affirm the sense of things once heard

A revelation is as must we stand beneath belief in trust

Our biases confirmed we understand that what is learnt

Is nothing more than we knew before or less

Our biases confirmed we understand that what is learnt

Is nothing new but just a view cemented

in our version of the truth.

If your roof is leaking don’t blame the rain

If your tooth is hurting understand that pain is speaking the only way it knows…

The grass is green I see it clearly via cones accepting light

The grass is blue and science knows that other hues are likely too.

Flowing in and out of reason tis the season of summers will

Ink filled lines defining times of lifes arrival beyond the hill.

Morning pages fill themselves with whatever seems to matter most

Coming next for the poet dux is another coffee and a round of toast.


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