Pull the recycling bin to the curb,
past the pruned stumps of crape myrtle
and azaleas in full bloom;
the sound of a weeks worth of beer bottles
drowns out the morning birds.
Our large pear trees have blossomed late,
seems the smaller ones always go first.
I sit in the car with my fast food lunch
watching the Jehovah’s Witnesses stalk
their prey as they emerge unsuspecting
from the discount grocery store.
The purple brilliance of a redbud offsets
the abandoned restaurant it grows beside,
discarded pamphlets proclaiming ‘Jesus
is Risen’ blow by with the pollen.
The new moon gleams through
thickening foliage on the horizon.
The rest of the house sleeps while I
watch out windows, wander halls and
channel surf, sober and sleepless.
Margo asked for a poem that focuses on a motif of our choosing. No idea if I am even close….. As usual.
Posted to the dVerse Poets open link night.