Nothing Much Is

The coffee tree
built up on roots of black grounds
sounds like Africa
when the wind makes love to the mountains.

The crocodile
watching over the koi in their pond
cast in stone
still scares away winged predators.

Nothing much is
what it seems like it is
except for the real
which is all around us.

Those photographs
we take and share and use to prove
we are smiling
because our lives are in domestic groove.

The current fashion
the whites and blacks acting all coordinated
the fine tailoring
toiled on in bad light for a dollar a day.

Nothing much is
what it seems like it is
except for the real
which is all around us.

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
This entry was posted in poem, poetry, song and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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