Ryan Brooks

Dog and Cat,
Around they go.
Dog is excited,
But Cat takes it slow.
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The TV just shows blood and gore,
What have we to be happy for?

The sweet breeze that smells of dew,
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Tumbling under and over,
Endlessly rolling on,
Above a field of clover,
Forever heading toward the dawn.
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(next to the demands of the Universe, even our most important errands are)

INCONSEQUENTIAL.
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How many grains of sand are there?
Five jillion and seventy-tenner?
Maybe I should count them all,
Though it might take forever.
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Mirror, mirror,
On the wall,
If I push you,
Would you fall?
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Twinkling light
In a field
From stars
From water
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