Getting The Newspaper From The Lawn
“I milk the sky and the earth.” H. D. Thoreau
I watched this morning’s mountain mizzle
Misting dewy drizzle slanting
Windblown rain scud scud scudding
Against windows, across the lawn,
Swirling shower soaking garden greens.
I smelled this morning’s fleshy fragrance
Oozing outward from profuse perfumes
Pontificating pompously from resplendent ruby roses.
Oh! Yes! I even felt this morning’s moisture
As tantalizing tufts of chilly dew-damp
Spears of grass titillated my bare toes.
And spied this morning’s slimy slug’s silvery saliva trailing
Up the lettuce leaf where the caped culprit sinfully slurped
Successive succulent sucks of my Saturday salad.
How I tasted this morning’s sweet sour saltiness
In the lightly stinging tangy bite
Radiating from a red rocket radish.
Then heard this morning’s songbirds singing and
Trumpeting tunes to celebrate the biblical end
Of our desiccating deathly drought. Alleluia!
Oh! Yes! Yes! This richness in reading
Heady heart-throbbing headlines
Of this mostly wet and wondrous morning
As I bow, bend, genuflect, then pick up
The soggy news of the world.
--James Cilettit (Winner of the 2004 Literal Latte Award)
