Blue plastic bag in a tree. Or Life is unpredictable.
The other day I saw a blue plastic bag in a tree And wrote a poem which includes this intro plus infinity.
(Addressed to no one in particular)
When I see the blue plastic bag in a leafless tree It reads like a poem about the mountain and me And so does the fountain Whose half-hearted jet Climbs up Then drops down It makes me frown How Try as I might I just do not get The drip drop patter clatter Lost pressure chitter chatter Like water from a leaky garden hose ‘Why?’ it asks Nobody knows
When I see the blue plastic bag in the naked tree I wonder how it got there and how it got to be I struggle to decipher the pavement puddle Such a puzzle! I'm in a right old muddle! Its reflecting surface shivers in the breeze And - surprising wheeze - Captures a single gull in flight All in all it is utterly beauti-full (pronounced like ‘gull’) the light Glinting and hinting at something more I listen to its whisper What it says I am not quite sure.
When I see the blue plastic bag in the empty tree I imagine what it has carried and where on earth it’s been: Maybe it once gave a temporary home to some fruit Or maybe it was a bag for swag carrying loot Snatched from a bank in daylight robbery Not lovingly grown in an orchard or a shrubbery
(Directly addressing audience)
At this moment in the process of poetic composition (blows raspberry) My lower body emitted wind, causing musical vibration
Yes To All Of It 