Friday the Thirteenth

 

 Green field glows outside;
Farm house like a white statue;
Front porch is naked.

 

The sky is clear blue;
The ground is filled with sunshine--
Friday the Thirteenth.

 

 Now it smells like Spring;
Faint moon is still in the sky;
Green is in the air.

 

Mia's new picture
With eyes of cupcake papers
And a pie plate face.

 

 Shadows are softer
With the wood's protection
Where sun and trees meet.

With no flutter sound
Bird flies low above the road
Landing in silence.

 

Camouflaged pine tree
Hides itself in the bushes;
Cleverly wears green.

 

Peter and I talk
About rock bands and bird shit
And good things unsaid.