that which may fall from above
rhyme & meter fail me
as I reach for words [like a
kite] caught up in a tree
there is no pattern to follow
no cut & paste
or rinse & repeat
only a faint premonition
stirring within the leaves
and there at the base
sits a collection basket
haphazardly catching
that which may fall from above
[and to be recycled later]
—the rest around the perimeter
raked into a pile of ideas
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 