New Poetry by Michael Lee Johnson

Leaves in December

Leaves, a few stragglers in

December, just before Christmas,

some nailed down crabby

to ground frost,

some crackled by the bite

of nasty wind tones.

Some saved from the matchstick

that failed to light.

Some saved from the rake

by a forgetful gardener.

For these few freedom dancers

left to struggle with the bitterness:

wind dancers

wind dancers

move your frigid

bodies shaking like icicles 

hovering but a jiffy in sky,

kind of sympathetic to the seasons,

reluctant to permanently go,

rustic, not much time more to play.

- Michael Lee Johnson 2007  (Bluepepper 2010)

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Wing it!

I have begun to tweet in my drive to harvest as much good poetry for Bluepepper as is humanly possible for an aging misanthrope with legs too long and pockets too deep and ears that pop whenever a black cockatoo flies east. So hungry am I for the best, dear reader. If you do not know the protocol by now, just glance to your right in the sidebar.