these days

days that begin with promise
at times fizzle into dismal grays
spraying mist over dawning days
nipping in bud mood wilts, for blues’ busters
Digging into loot caches for robust earthy quilts and
Psychedelic pillows, I place them in random clusters

Hanging sun catchers nowadays infrequently pendulum
driven by random breezes when deck doors open, alas
November sun is no more that posturing lion of summer

image is from internet~


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