Over-Planned Community

The stain smells sorta like a pine,

but every grape can’t be pressed to wine.

The elephant skin lake is wise

to follow the herd with squinted eyes, but

I’m taking the day’s placebo

in my neighborhood’s empty gazebo.

Fooled by the perfect symmetry

of my new, over-planned community.

© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved 

23 Comments

    1. K.Hartless

      Many thanks, John. You’re kind comments always lift my spirits. A “running” poem, this one. Stopped in this gazebo pictured to capture it on a memo. Can’t say I much wanted to run after that, but I managed to get back home.

      Liked by 1 person

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