Why must life be bittersweet?
you ask me between sips of beer.
I don’t even know my feet
but this much I did hear:
think of life as a song
you can’t listen to the same note too long.
Music needs flats and sharps
sometimes horns, sometimes harps.
Devour life, this movable feast
love the north, west, south and east.
Alone, salt and pepper we’d never eat
but look how they spice up the meat.
See the forest in the tree
and the roots on which she feeds
a tree at her most beautiful
wearing this death mask of fall.