Iambuses—An Unplanned Poem

Mary Westcott

This line took time to plan its useless demise.

My wish to write of glorious autumn leaves

fell slightly to the right of bubbly brooks.

One almost wants some wind and a hearty breeze.

Autumn this year might just be a defeat:

just bitter rains without any signs of sun,

then a winter of storms and snow without end.

I welcome iambic plans for this sad poem

and a rainbow of autumn trees for Fall’s demise.