Your Sunday Poem
It looks like a beautiful day. Go walk the dog. Go to the pound and get a dog, then walk it. Get a cat. Walk the cat. Chase the cat back into the house and put a leash on it then try again to walk it. Put a gerbil in a little plastic exercize ball and roll it down the street. Don't do this while walking the cat. Or the dog. No, leave the goldfish bowl on the table. Mr. Fish doesn't like fresh air.
From Richard Wilbur's "New and Collected Poems,"
Kick at the rock, Sam Johnson, break your bones.
but cloudy, cloudy is the stuff of stones.
We milk the cow of the world, and as we do
We whisper in her ear, "You are not true."