A Gentleman Passes the Protest
The Old Sweeper of Bird Droppings
paused in his tracks, gawping
at the sight of a scruffy fellow
who advanced on a man in cashmere yellow.
Tall and regal, his chest like an armor,
the Gentleman showed no sense of humor.
He scoffed at the tough and pointed his nose
Forward, and then he assumed a pose
of such stature it screamed entitlement.
The Old Sweeper of Bird Droppings bent
quickly over his broom and dustpan
not wanting to stare at the winter tan
of the Gentleman whose tasseled loafers
picked through the droppings, each one a protester.
Honorable Mr. Cat
Honorable Mr. Cat sat on the floor
and calmly washed his paws
leaving the chair full of cat hair
for the Honorable Speaker’s laws
which were printed between
the vertical stripes of his dark navy suit
in a language that was a paradox.
When the Speaker sat, the laws became moot
because some of the letters were allergic.
The ensuing sneeze rearranged the words
into sensible thoughts about governing
while the rest flew away like birds.
—Mary C. Rowin, Middleton, WI