Another tiny fly

The poetic component seems to have trickled away. You come to the computer to rap in neutral terms about the day. If nothing especially hooked your interest between 7am and 10pm then you’re stuck with the staples: weather, seasonal phenomena, features of a walk or bike ride when you at least felt a law unto yourself. 

The haiku, if there’s one in there, gets squeezed out like toothpaste from a tube.

Symmetry says you’ve come this far, why not push on till August? Round it up to 365 days. Then back to Commander Sun if not before.

 

River trail

mouth open as you ride, in goes

another tiny fly

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