Matt Brundage

Three Untitled Poems

At last when winter's dying down
I watch the "birds", they run around
The wind is cold — but not that way
The sun is warm; I watch them play.

My girlfriend is a busy bee
From place to place she has to flee
And though she's seldom filled with glee
My heart rejoices first in she.

The elephants of Old shall sense
the beating of the drum, but when?
The elephants of New shall rise
The pigs of Present start to fly
The elephants out West shall scoff
the flight of pigs but Hark! They're off!