Various and Sundry Poetry

forest for the trees

mistaken turns
and bad directions
stove-top burns
and ear infections
dogs off trails
losing favor
never fails
bad hair morning
sleepless night
traffic warning
nothing's right
stains that stick
and frigid air
smiles that trick
it's never fair
i claw my way
through all the muck
my feet in clay
can't get unstuck
my eyes cast down
my heart in trouble
a path to town
lost in the rubble

and from the glass
the dust, obscure
the view (first-class)
looks grey, unsure
the sun, its poorest,
fails to please
how is there forest
in these trees?

and yet, it's clear
(although I'm wary)
the dirt that's here
just temporary
no fastened grip
no extra meaning
a minor strip
that just needs cleaning

or this: the flaws
are meant to seethe
and give brief pause
with which to breathe
the dusty windows -
needed jumble -
God always knows
to keep me humble.