Heave-Ho
How is it that when the sun comes out,
After so many days freighted with sheer dismal,
It can kick, big-bad-butt big-time,
My down-in-the-dumps, bummed-out, not-with-it disposition,
Give my humdrum, ho-hum doldrums the easy heave-ho,
Fling, sling, wing my spirit into the radical stratosphere,
Saying, "You and your ho-humdrum bah-humbugs are outta here,
Outta hearing's earshot, outta seeing's nearsightedness,
Outta mind's mindless mindfulness"?
The only thing I can guess, and it's an edgy stretch,
Is that the sun is one massively brash, gaseous, bad-ass good guy.
11/22/09 - (1)
|