Some Days

Distantrumbles from a sky of

Mistygray, hanging low,

Movingsteady, marking time,

Marchingsoldier in your prime.

Crispnesschilling morning air,

Sittingon my front porch chair

Iponder what the day will bring.

Daintilythe wind chimes sing

Asrobins chirp

Andfolks walk by,

Gentlebreezes seem to sigh

Andslide across the pine tree’s boughs,

Whoprotests slightly, but allows.

Planswere made

Butwill they serve?

Willprotests yield what they deserve?
Or should I simply roll along

Tosee what fate holds in her song?

Somedays are like this one,

Nodoubt.

I’llwait to see what it’s about.