SONNET 3: Night's Coming

Come eve, frustrated winds doth blow 
leaves glide upon her tree's sorrow 
painted with a stroke of starlight 
they swim in the dark of the night 

A creature or two must witness 
he the beauty of it digest 
or altogether with a might 
turn away from its budding light 

Come eve howls slashing pierce the wind 
racing about the hills confined 
lambs afraid run with a might 
stepping on leaves with hooves a light 

Come eve exists no tomorrow 
come eve, dang'rous paths are narrow

Antonio's Mess

Sifting thru furniture, 
to and fro 
behind the TV set 
under Dad's couch 
racing like a wanted 
criminal chased by police 
in the unfortunate form 
of a rubber slipper 
from the sofa under - 

Eject, landing on the nightstand 
scurried to its bottom 
sprinted to the kitchen sink 
sirens blaring/mother screaming 
flinching, headed toward 
the dining table's leg 
wheels a`rolling 

SPLAT! 

You have the right
 to remain silent, 

Forensics arrive 
to sweep away 
the cockroachy mess