The late winter sun
By time change did run
Ignites the skies
Irritates my eyes
Through the line of limbs
Where leaves are just shims
Soon will plants
Pull up their pants
Making evening
Bread’s leavening
And nature can resort
To its cyclical sport

It’s late
February
And pairs of
Ravens
Show up
On lawns

They dance
Bravely on
Barely 
Frozen 
Ground
Around

Then flit
In air
They sign 
Their nuptials
But close 
To ground

So they
Search around
For stands
Of trees
Pretending
For worms

There’s still 
A freeze
Next week
They’ll
Hook up
A nest in trees

A rich sunset
Through dense
Winter trees
Produces in blur
Stained glass
Homes for
Birds and bees
Who aren't 
There yet
The fox
And the deer
Keep the palace
Clean and ready
For the winged
Victors
Once springed

My new oven
Has a WiFi connect
Can some coven
Remotely select

This chamber
To roast
And remember
When toast

Arose
From a toaster
Just suppose
From this boaster

That Artificial Intelligence
Will control
Female sense
On a roll

Arise sisters
Walk into this realm
Forget your blisters
Control the helm

Did dinosaurs
Sing a song
Their necks 
So long
Like a giraffe
Known to be mute

But their
Progeny
Sing every song
Which captivate
All folks
And belong

To the landlords
Of all mammals
Who adore
Their feathery
Folk lore
Some write their scores

The windy force
Bore down
North of town
A source

Lost south
Of the woods
Chilly goods
Squirrel’s mouth

Full of fluff
January spring
Silly thing
Nature’s bluff

Religion and cuisine
Wear no buffer between
Humankind
Usually so blind
And existence
In its common sense

The same nutrients
Are determinants
For any person
And a lesson
In the equality
Of our believability

Divinity
Or ultimate reality
Shares the same
Rubric that came
With human complexity
Cultural diversity

The cook
Needs no book
For all can eat
At the seat
Of eternity’s table
Reading their fable

Being creative
Is just being horny
The urge is a splurge
Of a surge
No, not money
But a sedative

Causing 
Linearity
Of thought
All wrought
A parity
In realizing

That languages
Are out of 
Focus
Ignores us
Sells not love
Only its massages





The urge is a splurge
Of a surge
No, not money
But a sedative

Causing 
Linearity
Of thought
All wrought
A parity
In realizing

That languages
Are out of 
Focus
Ignores us
Sells not love
Only its massages

AI has a split personality

But we agree on artificial’s identity

Either intelligence or ignorance

We parade in a trance

If we claim intelligence

But we curtly dance

To the sounds of ignorance