(Image: detail taken from AP photo)
She’s not too bright sometimes,
my father always said. I’m not sure but
I think he meant it took me longer
than most to learn my lesson.
The storm has been raging for months.
The winds die down from time to time,
and being the slow learner that I am,
I'm lulled into thinking all is well.
I can’t say I thought it was safe to go out again
because I never came in. I leaned into the wind,
plodded forward, taking everything that came my way,
but making less progress with every step.
The winds howled and buffeted and tore
at my soul and still I pushed on,
battered and bruised, eye on the prize,
like an idiot, or somebody hell-bent on nobility,
I slog on no longer.
Perseverance is a poor substitute
for winning, and nobility is
just another word for crazy.
Linked at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Poetry Pantry, dVerse Poets Pub