Bleak

“…no one loves a Christmas Tree on March the 25th.” ~Shel Silverstein

And no one loves a dirty old snowball on February 15th either. I took Pickles for a walk and the only thing I photographed was this lonely snowball sitting in a bed of weeds.   There was no other sign of snow as far as the eye could see.  And the sky was so gray and lackluster.

Here’s something nice that took my mind off of the February weirdness — a poem a day project.  There’s even a poem generator that will write a poem for you after you’ve answered a few questions.  Enjoy.


4 thoughts on “Bleak

  1. Here’s a poem Kate wrote about Lyle, a friend who doesn’t know he is going to be celebrating his 50th birthday Saturday:

    I was just a baby when I first met Lyle,
    but I knew he was no crocodile.

    For starters, we didn’t live near the Nile.
    Secondly, he had a certain style.

    He’d worked as a beekeeper for awhile —
    taught the buzzers to fly single file.

    He became an artiste with some guile —
    $10,000 dollar chess sets — quite a pile!

    Bio-diesel fuel may look like bile, but it
    makes our cars go the extra mile.

    Fifty years old? We’re in denial.
    But we hope this poem will make you smile:)

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