Confusion
My brain is a jumble
of words as they tumble
and dive and spin and cavort.
My thoughts, I would trace them
so I could embrace them,
But there're just too many to sort.
So, I close my eyes
and heave some deep sighs
and ask my mind to slow down.
I'd make a list
If I could get the gist
of the ideas that are whirling around.
Yet the lists that I make
Seem like a mistake
when new thoughts come whirling by,
So until they calm down
And quit spinning around
I just watch as like shorebirds they fly.
By the rimers of JMH
