Friday, April 12, 2013

Poetry written late on a sleepless night after a Planning and Zoning Board meeting

Lousy golf course

fire ants and fungus;

weeds on the fence.

An executive course about to be executed;

no more CEOs or CFOs or any OTHEROs

no more greens space; or space for green.

Once wooded land, under protest from tree huggers, was

sculpted, greened and bunkered

and now will,

under protest from green lovers, be

scalped, graded and building-ed.

Concrete rule$. 


1 comment:

  1. Very nice Bett. You've turned politics into poetry.