writing poetry in my head

as i wash the dishes

and make the tea

and cut the grass

and wash my hair

and watch Andy Griffith


drifting with a broken beat

as i pour

the greenish yellow nectar

into the re-used gallon container

it sounds so poetic

as i strive to get

the words just so


orĀ  composing lines

as i wander the supermarket aisles

my thrifty side coming out

i imagine my husband hollering

“call the man!”

as i heave

my ten pound bag of sugar

into the buggy

my reply the same each week

“it’s almost two pounds free”

what’s more poetic than that

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