Best Day Poem by Michael Pruchnicki

Who was it said a mortal's best day is the last day
until then one cannot assert otherwise
like the foot dipping into the river
is that it the preacher said
I be dogged if I know for sure
but you do raise some mind bogglers

the pair sat on the wharf
fishing poles in hand
bobbers bobbing in the murky water
the sky pewter-gray and sullen
like an old seagull
dingy and flaccid
in its excrement

the best day might well be your last day
depends on a scraggly chicken
in the yard beside a rusty barrow
wheel gone to who knows where
words are simple as dirt