What’s Next?

I remember writing that.
Changing the words and
Coming back to a meaningful
Non-poem. I read it as a critic.
Selecting among  hundreds.
I did not wait. I changed
The words to leaves of grass
And other natural outcomes.
The critic read it again
And nodded but sent it back.
Turning to a swig of lemonade
Near lunch time but time
Enough for some passion from
Life experiences.

It is September after all
Everything suspended
Waiting for the fall.
Leaves that gloried
In their colors, letting go
With abandon and
The dizzy ride ahead.

That’s what’s next.

L. Fullington

If you have any comments on this poem, L. Fullington would be pleased to hear from you.