For what is it assumed when I stay home
I do not work, who’s known for working hard?
And why when I report I wrote a poem,
do many dread the jingle of a card?
How came the custom to take Friday out,
if fortunate enough to trim the week,
when Monday is the problem? What about
alternatives? Can’t you see them? Speak!

It’s difficult to fully fail a test.
You need to know your stuff to get it wrong.
Misunderstood and slotted in a nest
of ducklings where I’m sure I can’t belong,
I bow my neck and spread my winds and fly
above the gossamer. I kiss the sky.