Distracted by the imagined taste
of ripe Farmer’s Market tomatoes
I write poor poems and consider
abandoning my walk in the woods
in favor of rushing out to buy.
Luckily, it is possible to do both
as anyone can know. Had I notÂ
gone to the woods I’d have missedÂ
the perfect morning light dancingÂ
among the cool leavesÂ
the bride and groom having theirÂ
cheerful photograph taken on the bridgeÂ
and the contagious exuberance
of my two dogs hurtling down the path.
