Comforting that I can make a
poem
out of the odds and ends
of my morning
out of the odds and ends
of my morning
feeling at home
with the twists and bends
but wishing I didn’t have to call it a poem
with the twists and bends
but wishing I didn’t have to call it a poem
it’s just a bit of rhyme
one word befriends
another, whom it met this morning
one word befriends
another, whom it met this morning
and they make a honey pone
together beginning to end.
Don’t call it a poem
together beginning to end.
Don’t call it a poem
if the word just makes you
imagine some dron-
ey guy who won’t put down his pen,
vexing the serenity of your morning.
For God’s sake, let's not think of himey guy who won’t put down his pen,
vexing the serenity of your morning.
but turn to what the time commends!
Comforting to scrape a tune
on the strings of the morning.
