I find myself sitting, wondering
how my lifelong blundering
got me to where I stand,
to blow my horn
free to wax in these poetic terms
until the worms feast (that is
as harsh a vision I could muster).
So, I rant and bluster as if
winter lived within me. I have come
prepared, to concentrate, to vanish,
to smell the varnish,
to raise a glass to the light of a new day.
© Walter J Wojtanik – 2021
Nice one!