Picking up some live ones and throwing them In the trash—They’ll soon be dead anyway I’m not doing anything rash. Hallway My bedroom, the guest room and even In the bath ladybugs are wherever You walk softly crunching under your feet Making a sound you’ll hear between your teeth When you eat Rice Crispies with your fingers At breakfast before you pour on the milk Dried up old ladybugs breathing their last —Ah life, it goes so slow and then so fast— The snow outside rolls on as smooth as silk Undisturbed by my old lame father’s feet Stretching clean up to the jagged dark creek. for more check out my blog: http://donyorty.com/
