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A Three Ring Circus

Posted May 22, 2005 11:06 | Category: Poetry | #

The washing machine
Spinning smugly
With a very professinal air
Like a clown yawning, nonchalant
As plates spin balanced on sticks on his nose.
They never fall.

The dryer tumbles
Its load, endlessly rotating:
A circus animal who knows his tricks
So well he could do it in his sleep.
With a sigh, another tumble.

Clamoring for attention
The dishwasher sloshes and grunts and whines
The eager monkey
That all the other animals despise
For his cheerfulness.

I glance over at the clock, and sigh.

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Last updated: 09/19/2007 William R. Ward, bill@wards.net