Respecting whimsy, with its silly grin,
its quiet self-amusing attitude,
I recognize I like it and begin
to celebrate its quality. As crude
as silk as rough as cloud all whimsy drifts
like morning fog. It’s slapstick’s opposite.
As light as children’s laughter, it uplifts
our moods and renders winks appropriate.

Here’s junk mail stickers on a garbage can.
And there’s a patchwork motto on a car.
I smile every morning at a man
who blesses all commuters. There they are —
the escapades that beg to be excused
for prompting smirks and leaving us bemused.