The Cabin’s lightbulb flicker on and off,

On a Friday night once more.

Its quite cold for an early September,

A perfect time for a beet.

One thing I can remember.

Is my full bucket blessed in harvest,

With my red jacket on,

Across the bayou view,

It’s a perfect quiet day,

An art translated for before the sunset go away.

I’m on my way back to the cabin,

With a lightbulb that flicker on and off.

 

 

Text Prompt:

Below is a list of ten words. Please pick at least five of them to use in your poem. If you want to use all ten, please do so.

Beet, jacket, tremor, bayou, elbow, lightbulb, cinnamon, bucket, elk, carport

 

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