Day Dream

Poem a day is biting its tongue

So as not to get in trouble

From saying things it shouldn’t

Over the mess in Washington.

Instead it invasions a writing shack,

With a wood stove, kettle heating,

French press at the ready.

It on the side of an Eastern mountain

Overlooking the valley to the high ridges opposite

With the fall colors starting to peak.

There’s might be an eagle or hawk swooping low,

Though more likely turkey buzzards,

Sore on the updrafts.

Poem a day will be thinking and writing

Of simpler times before the tea party,

And fracking and Fukishima,

Being unconcerned to justify

The state of the art laptop

With the newest next generation battery and wifi.