An amazement happened yesterday —
I’ve no idea why —
my phone just upped and worked
out of the clear blue sky!
I had no magic word,
no high-tech stratagem,
so respect the awesome power
of the Christmas M&M!
HAPPY EMILY DICKINSON’S BIRTHDAY, dear reader!
In the tranquility of morning
I was focused on my toast
when the weirdest of small sounds
seemed a visit from a ghost.
No one, nothing, was about
except just only me —
what could I have heard?
Did I really want to see?
There it was, pathetic mess,
in painful black and white:
potting soil on carpet
a gruesome morning sight.
Seedlings knocked unconscious
lying there all messed;
What the heck? I queried,
at my expressive best.
How this could have happened
will ever be unknown:
did it jump off by itself
or was it somehow thrown?
It took its place among
the unsolved mysteries
I pondered as I vacuumed
on my hands and knees.
I have concluded, dear reader, that there are things that happen
just to make us nuts.
