Life, episodically

Filled with the joys of Spring,
a bit slow on the uptake, but
I start to sing,
it’s Sunday and I will blend in
with the sinners who bring their
own songs to sing,

I guess I’ll confess
but I can’t think to what,
no carnal desires and I
haven’t smoked pot,
I’ll just make something up
grab hold of a wafer
some wine from the cup

full of the joys is the
best place to be.

© 2020, John Smallshaw.