Nothing Interesting
By
John I. Blair
Nothing interesting going on outdoors
I said to Butch, who sprawled beside me
On the tiled floor, looking at the lawn.
Nothing but the clouds racing by
Across the pure sky
While trees waved in the breeze;
Flowers brightened all the dawn
With petals, blue and white and red;
Birds lighted on the feeder pole,
Taking turns eating seeds;
And butterflies, humming bees, sipped
Nectar from the flowers aforesaid.
Nope. Nothing interesting going on
To keep you and me from being bored
My Lady Butch. She yawned.
©2016 John I. Blair, 10/15/2016
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