a walk out front
and on down to the mailbox
is a wild distraction,
an attack on the sensibilities...
gaudy purples and silly yellows--
a ladybanksia and two redbuds
observing my habits,
commenting on my clothes:
don't you think she's wanting
a little more color? some flounce?
doesn't she have better things to do
than all this gad-abouting
and fetching noisy circulars
and long white envelopes
wanting more money...
she should sit in the chair out there
under the branches of tiny green leaves
and wonder at things...
the thousand crawling things...
and the troublemakings of bluebonnets--
pushing over the paintbrush,
meddling in the buttercups,
--on a day like this...
on a day like this before summer takes over--
on a day like this when the sky is so high
and the air is sparkly with possibilities
and everything is 'fine as frog's hair...