rubber duckt


J.Hyatt #49 – Aug.18/13

“The poet, a pickpocket of reality.” Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Think of the sun as it fell to the pond
Remember the smell in the woods;
it was musty and sweet, and something
else you can’t quite recall
Were the bees humming their way
back to the hive?
Was the sky so brilliant it hurt to look up?
Now, picture yourself sneaking up on the thing;
the rushes surrounding it rustling
so loud you can’t think,
And your stomach is wet from the ground
as you crawl steadily closer
Now, you’re fumbling your camera to snap
off a shot…
Oh —of course, you took a picture of it!


Glad you came by to read, be happier still if you left a few words...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s