Arts

Janitor of Situations

By Wesley Houp

A long hot day
followed by a cool night
and misty morning.
Nodding onions sleep
among sneezeweed
in drooping pink
clusters.
They are teenage daughters,
not at all encouraged
to wake up.

But I am not the teacher.
I am just a janitor of situations
sweeping by with
keys on a chain,
the mop bucket of my mind.
The master key opens
the question,
does anything
stand a chance?

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