I can get along with most people, I can appreciate just about all things.
What bothers me most are birds that don’t fly even though they have wings.
They strut around scratching and pecking the soil, ignoring you as they eat.
They will turn and charge at you, their disposition changes in a heart beat.
The bane of my existence Ostriches, emus, kiwis and penguins too.
I can’t tolerate them. Do they ever bother you?
Never one to be characterized as charming and romantic.
Rather the words to describe me are severe and pedantic.
But let me step out of character and put aside behaviors dour;
To a mere acquaintance I would say, “In the garden of friendship, you are the most beautiful flower.”
After recovering from this flattery, I can imagine that she’d say, “Oh my gosh man what’s gotten into you today?”
“Are you a shape shifting alien or a clever A.I. hack?
Whatever you have done with my old friend, please just send him back!”
Thus I shall place charm and romance back upon the shelf.
To spare the world this shock and awe, I will remain my plain, old self.
Ah, yes I long for Spring,
Above the 45th Parallel it’s a psychological thing.
The calendar says, “It’s here!”
Mother Nature says, “Not so my dear.”
”Today more snow I’ll bring!”
The Ethereal Scupper 