Birthday Poem by Morgan Michaels

As the coffee turns in the pot
as cream rises in the can
as butter softens in the bowl
and yellows to yellow
as wind tangles in the vane
as high above the red barn door
the sky peoples over with crows;
as hens cluck and cluck some more
and the old cock crows
cockadiddlediddlediddledo
as morning slouches to noon;
punching the pillow, let me just say
'Happy birthday, babe, it's tubuler, no'?
Happy birthday, babe, and lots more!