On the Deck

wallowing in my head

looking for a poem

gives me ADHD.

All I can see is the red bird

making U-turns in mid-air

to avoid me as I sit next

to the birdfeeder.

All I can hear is a distant hammer,

someone is building something

just like I would like to be

building a poem.

I have to watch every time

the dog bolts across the yard

for a black squirrel

even though we both know

she will never catch it.

Then the pink petunias

are nice to look at and so is the

fountain that just turned on next door.

The hammock looks inviting

but it's difficult to write lying down.

I notice the air smells sweet

after the the rain and

OH HELL - forget the poem writing!