Trial

Huts

A frustrated architect
With frustrated means
Built a small yellow hut on the sand
Where the sun beamed warmly
And the tides swelled gradually
But the days grew dark
And monsoon rains pelted
Swallowed and razed
That tiny dream that stood
Like an instant in a lifetime
But the architect was content
That his prototype could be realized
And searched for another place
To start his true endeavor.

Lifetime Labor

Those birds that chirrup a sweet song
Perhaps they were born with gifts
But the Mockingbird learns tune by tune
Listening to the beauty of others
Note by note he copies and twists
Until his hard work yields a repertoire
As brilliant as the colors of autumn