Bring me a poem from somewhere, bring me a poem well done.
I hope it’s about the woman, folding her shirt in the sun.
Let her be standing and watching the fox with the crooked grin,
While saying, “Nothing’s the matter that cannot be cured by sin.”
She hands her shirt to the vixen, still grinning there in the sun,
Wondering why she bothers to do work that is never done.
This is a poem from somewhere, perhaps from the watercourse,
A poem no person can sing right, only the spotted horse.
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #229
The gritty backside of Historic Downtown Yuma, Arizona