I finished all my weeding chores
and read three or four poems
by Billy Collins.
Then I decided to write one myself.
But some kid down the street
started blowing a doo-dad horn.
I was disrupted into thinking
about the kid and his horn.
And why do I think he’s a he
and not a she?
Except that I don’t picture well
little girls blowing on doo-dad horns.
Little girls, I should think,
have better things to do.
And then the noise abruptly stopped.
And I began to wonder why.
Was it something I was thinking?
So, I never got to write that poem,
which I so desperately needed.
Instead, I just continued to ponder
on that doo-dad horn.
©Marvin Loyd Welborn 2011