by Glen Martin Fitch
I've sworn off holidays.
The treat's the trick.
Renewed resolve caves in
with each excuse.
From racing year to year,
I'm dizzy, sick.
Red hearts, green beer, brown eggs
try to seduce me
in their festive joy.
They all induce my self contempt
from "Ole Lang Syne" to "Yule" with rites
of food and alcohol abuse
in every culture, nation.
Call me "Fool"
my favorite time of year
is back to school.
Unsharpened pencils, notebooks, pads,
the smell of flannel, swish of cords,
what's new, what's cool,
I wander down the aisles
as in a spell.
I'm anxious,
yet potential fills my heart
for fresh adventures,
yet another start.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011