My Quiver of Waste

I think that a thought is an arrow that springs
From the bow of an intellect grand
By the coincidence of a number of things,
All crafted in destiny's hand.

The tenser the bowstring, the farther it goes
To land in a sea of a plan,
A hilltop of action, a field of repose,
Or a swamp of the words of a man.

At The Arboretum

We were at the arboretum,

All of us and all together

Although rainy was the weather, but the rain

Didn't keep us from exploring 

All the dandelion flooring

And the rhododendron patches once again.

And while AbdurRahman quoted

Words of Alan Milne that floated

On a temperate Sunday afternoon time breeze,

We took shelter from the glade
In the pink magnolia shade

To delight in all the seeings that one sees.

And like Pooh Bear who went poohing

Midst his aah-ing and his ooh-ing,

All the doings we were doing did us good

As we braved the rainy weather,
All of us and all together,

In the company of flower, bird and wood.