When I posted this (these?) poem(s?) I was sure I could hear some alleged rabbit, laughing sadistically.
I know it’s pretty far down there
but you can still see it, right? Maybe
stand a little closer to the edge or
break out the binoculars. They don’t
chrome-plate ‘em like that anymore.
Maple. That’s what my Mama told me
before I learned to read. Now I know better.
They were never made of maple.
Most of them are still around, though.
My first one’s right over there. Look.
Miz Quickly’s Octoberfest #3
~ not an orange ~