Have the cock begin his crowing:
Some splurge May this morn is throwing!
Far cry, this, from winter’s snowing;
All the world is lush, green,–growing
Much TOO fast–the lawn needs mowing;
Dandelions their seeds are sowing,
Each its share of grief a-towing.
Garden weeds are skyward going,
Green and healthy they are glowing;
Time to start their weekly hoeing.
Screens need hoisting–flies are showing:
Some are silent–some are blowing.
Whole dang place is over-growing,
Under-cleaned and overflowing.
But I for one am easy-going:
I had rather boat be rowing
To a shady spot I’m knowing,
Where the current’s gently flowing;
Hear the cattle’s lowly lowing?
But I hear the wife helloing:
“Come on, Shakespeare, let’s be stowing
All that guff–you’re on me slowing;
To the world a debt you’ re owing;
WORK comes first, and THEN sea-going!”
Yes,
Lovely is spring, and high I’d rate it,
Had I the time to appreciate it.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, May 26, 1943
