every box
Call me the ‘Cracker Jack Kid’ today. A surprise in every box.
Like this poem:
just red
The morning greets me –
a cardinal on the lawn.
He gives me a long look,
longing, perhaps,
for some brotherhood. Then,
for no reason beyond flying,
he lifts up,
up through the breeze.
“Ain’t nothing but red,”
I swear I heard him sing.
“Red’s all I got.”
While I think,
It’s more than enough.
Bro.
So much more.
All this happens,
in Missouri…
Luv this…
XO