On Rhyme
It’s possible that a stitch in time might save as many as 12 or as few as 3,
and I have no trouble remembering that September has 30 days.
So do June, November, and April.
I like a cat wearing a chapeau or a trilby, Little Jack
Horner sitting on a sofa,
old men who are not from Nantucket, and how life can seem
almost unreal
when you are gently rowing a boat down a stream.
That’s why instead of recalling today that it mostly pours
in Spain,
I am going to picture the rain in Portugal, how it falls on
the hillside vineyards,
on the surface of the deep harbors
where fishing boats are swaying, and in the narrow alleys of
the cities
where three boys in tee shirts are kicking a soccer ball in
the rain,
ignoring the window-cries of their mothers. – Billy Collins
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