Reality, and a Cookie Poem (Also a Reality) For an October Thursday of Winds and Rains. #Fall

Autumn Cookie Monster

It was raining,

the wind was whipping me into

  shape more than my 43-year old pig pace,

     running laps around aging, genetics,

       and an untiring drive to work.

 (pathetic)

But I remembered I once said, 

"October is an honest month,"

with leaves falling red and orange -

   reminding me of empty branches,

   snowbanks, and chills biting my bones.

   There's truth to trees,

   and though I ran wet in the pre-hibernal breeze,

     I still maintained my pace.

Ah, the race. The race.

   Deadlines, debates, all the trying-to-be greats,

   and all I can think about is what a cookie monster I am,

   how the e m p i r e belongs to me.  

Purple. Passion. The strength of Mother Nature, Maude...

  and I think to myself, "Man is truly a fraud."

Okay, I'm done with my poem. The real reason I'm writing is that I was writing all day yesterday in between Glamis attacks and tirades. What's a man to do when it's pouring outside, and not even a dog wants to see its feet in grass? I did my best to keep her at bay, but then I found a wad of plastic - no, it's not bubblegum. Glamis ate my caveman figurine given to me by Kathy Silver as a housewarming gift (in a plant while hunting a dinosaur). Well, he's now dead. 

Why am I writing such silliness? It's Thursday in October. I need it. I'm sure you could use a cookie, too. And with that I admit, "I watched Taraji P. Henson last night." (No, I didn't. The World Series was on...so I watched the Republican debate)

(and I'm laughing...when I tweeted this out last night, it went out as "this photograph may contain sensitive material." Well, yes...to plastic cavemen that have lost to the prying jaws of an over-energized dog who just wants to play).