Cars
With apologies to Joyce Kilmer.
I think, “O, shall I ever need
A car much faster than a steed?
A car whose angry maw doth roar
And charges forth forevermore;
One that looks out for cops all day,
And lifts her fibrous spoils to pray;
A car that may in Summer sport
A Rei or Hina of a sort;
Upon whose bosom proudly gleams
A clear cascade of suspect streams?”
Cars may be raced by fools in vain,
But poems, trees are my domain.