Poetry in Real Time

Breda has an enchanting post describing her “moment”.

Nice. I’ll do mine.

Sittin’ in front of the garage smelling something weird. The radio’s playing tunes from the 60’s & my cigar went out. Gas is leaking from a motorcycle. Glad cigar is out. Fix the leak & ponder the wonders of not smelling gasoline. Otherwise, it smells pretty good out here in the woods. Chipmunk chatters on the stone wall- head shot- he’s done. Fox will clean up tonight. It’s gettin’ dark out here, & my beer’s gone.

Ok, so I’m not the poet Ms. B is; I’m better at math…