It is indeed a dark fall night,
the earth is calling out for snow.
I hear a car pass by the house,
the muffler needs to be replaced.
you are on the East Coast again,
I'm not sure where,
is there another word for "tired".
I need a long nap to open my mind,
if I think too long, the ideas stop flowing
and all I hear is the fly bouncing against
it moves too quickly to swat.
Tonight will be unlike any other,
the perfect string of Tuesdays.
it's slightly overcast
and the leaves have already fallen to the ground.
my pink jacket is awaiting the morning dawn,
next to the dog's leash.
Sometimes I read a poem in the NYT, like the one in the picture and wonder why it's considered so great, but it is fun to make another poem off of it. ; )