Start The Day

frog-morning

These thoughts that creep from night
To swindle force and smother desire
Handcuff the clock to coffee
And a piece of buttered toast,
They sit and mock the crumbled life
That lies in mounds of maybe this,
Perhaps that.

Nevertheless the frogs of morning
Croak and chirp the sun into a bloody sky.
Their tongues flick into the future
To retrieve flying inclinations.

Swallowed ideas charge the arms,
Energize the legs.
The button pushed pings the world.
The internet moves in.

 

 

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