Birthday Bill, Hurray!

Today I sing of kindness though I’m no expert
I’m finding out. Wifey, friends, et. al. say, Too true! Too true!
Three winds ice-aged
this thudding heart so sore, offbeat in self-hurt
while yawn and blinking, three cups of coffee the morning through
to sunnier afternoons, lectures over, then the waiting page

to turn for reading, for reading, the damn book to write
and you always three doors down on the right, there
to share
dyspepsia hate and idea swoon, one more book thought
a cd or two, a baby on the way, and endless wifey woo.
This is all to say, despite current public opinion, I care.

This kindness song may not swing, may not play with heads
like Emily sang, nor pop ecstatic in a late, great American
sky, pie-eyed, high.
No, this teetotaler is packing it in, carrying off the candles,
an unbaked cake, taking stock in another year’s worth principles,
and heading home, half the distance you claim to daily fly.