Just seem to have no poems in them.
I drag from hour to hour
With nothing but survival on my mind.
My old cat Gracie sits by my knee,
Mewing for attention.
One of my endless run of CDs
Plays Mozart in my ears.
Outside the kitchen window
Finches fuss and bluejays flap.
Young squirrels clamber
On the feeders that I keep there.
Trees sway in the evening breeze;
To the east I hear the school band marching.
Friends on the phone
Share tales about their lives;
And I think about my own,
Wondering what to write about.
©2016 John I. Blair