a villanelle
It takes more skill than I possess to see
The glory of a grimy sewer grate.
Ah! Springtime still is beautiful to me.
I ought to know industrial debris
Is where to find the passion to create.
It takes more skill than I possess to see.
The songbirds in that old magnolia tree,
Cicadas chattering loud when it gets late.
Ah! Springtime still is beautiful to me.
The ancient joys of love and harmony
Are not for clever minds to contemplate.
It takes more skill than I possess to see.
If only he would sting, that bumblebee,
Perhaps my heart could feel creative hate!
But springtime still is beautiful to me.
The bitter wisdom of the minor key
Prefers a greasy engine hauling freight.
It takes more skill than I possess to see.
Ah! Springtime, though, is beautiful to me.
Sometimes Poetry 