Hah. So someone told me this month is special. I don’t know…it seems to be too hot to qualify for special, but hey, if you say so…it must be. Anyway I have never been the one to write for occasions or landmarks or milestones, so why should I change now. As the Malayali said to the sardar…Simbly!!!

Thirty days of rhyme

thinking of basil and thyme.

Attempting free verse

sentences that phrase randomly.

Looking at the moon,

hoping I’ll be inspired soon.

Smelling the roses

because she asked me to

wake up and smell the coffee.

I think I’ll write about my vegetable patch

and join Wordsworth and kin in the Daffodils batch.

Or perhaps,

perhaps I will play around with the pentameter

and tinker it into a haiku.

Damn it. Will the written word

ever compare to the poetry of a bird

a woman stepping gracefully

into a scented, steaming bath.

And washing her dirty underwear.

Good heavens

the time is almost sevens.

And the wife should be

coming back from work

and is this all I have to show her?

You’re mad, she’ll say.

Just a repeat of every day.