My Day Job Pays The Bills

This Morning For Glory
I Nearly Bumped My Head,
And Stayed In Bed,
A Drunken Slide Through The Black Velvet,
InTo The Gentle AfterLife,
Where I Would Have Found MySelf In Dungarees,
Walking Down A Trusted Country Road,
Where All The Trees Look The Same No Matter What Season,
Deer Tracks In The Fresh Mud Off To The Sides...
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For Hunters Not Hounds...
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A FarmHouse At The End Of The Trodden Rut,
And My Wife(?) With Her Hand Waveing Me InTo The Calming Baked Bread Breeze,
Past A Tractor Needing Fixing And An Old Tire Swing...
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Oh, My Son(?) Pitches Balls Through That Thing...
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What Year Is It AnyWays?
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A Corn Field Grows Ragged And Tattered,
Around Me... Around This Life(?)... The Field Is Subject To Cycles For Harvesting,
Crows Cawl BeTwixt The HenHouse Cluckings,
SunSets And SunRises Heralded By Birds Of A Feather,
SomeTimes I Would Stare At The Bright Bulb On The Patio And Watch Moths...
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One Of These Days A Moth Is Going To Break Through That Blazeing Hot Glass
And Fertilize The Egg,
My Wife Knowing My Thoughts Laughs At The Idea And Kisses The Top Of My Head,
As She Mutters SomeThing About Hell Opening Wide...
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Then We Both Laugh...
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The Next Day,
Who Knows...? I Could Take Jimmy To His BaseBall Diamond,
Out There... The Field By His School,
Help Him Practice His Pitches,
Take A Break...Sit Down With A Packet Of Beef Jerky And Two Bottles Of Dr. Pepper,
A Five Minute Moment Of MeaningFull Silence Between Us...
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Just BeFore I Point At That Tree Growing By ItSelf,
On The OutSkirts Of The School Grounds,
Ominous And Fruit-Laden...
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And I Tell My Son,
"Jimmy, You See That Tree Over There? Well... You Can Eat Any Fruit You Choose From It. BUT... WhatEver You Do, Stay AWay From The Fruit Growing On That Golden Bough! Cause If You Dare Eat From That Bough, You Shall Certainly Know That You Are Dead!"