Plain Plan

grace is practiced punctuality
resonant within rhyme of
caprice in the ad hoc release
of that damned tick-tocked
takeaway of this mortal coil

grace is on time but never
on the nose as that smells
of dictum in a social calendar,
When- trumping what, where,
and who-

knew that seconds are your Master,
and you miser minutes, hussy hours ,
procure a particular moment like the
prisoner stamping license plates to
relegate cadence to a signature

grace corrals to control but rolls with
pin ball paradox of duration and extent,
content to contain the scale, but happy
to sit a spell, and let the span stretch

***

says this old man with too much too little time on his hands

***

Published by

r.douglas

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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