Counting Colors Poem by Vallerie Lobell

I noticed the broken flower pot on the front porch this morning,
One of the few gifts from Charley, more to my liking than sentimental,
Cat, dogs or kids, who broke it, I'll never know,
The mixed emotions I felt were hardly incidental,

We counted the colors on the weeping willow across the street,
There were eight altogether if you counted rust,
I made myself stop to enjoy the little things with the little boys,
The aroma of pancakes clinging as they caught the bus,

I came back in and refilled my coffee cup,
My mind still roaming in all directions,
I could have used a Border Collie or any herding breed,
To round up straying thoughts and make corrections,

Broken pots, colored leaves, pancakes and school buses,
Are the here and now for me although I thought all this was passed,
And the cats, dogs, kids, and weeping willows,
Make me happy with what little I have,