To Spring Poem by Morgan Michaels

So we went thundering through the wood without horses
Tossing it back and forth at dazzling speed, wondering
What sadness was other than dread of impermanence it
Would be easier to claim as par for the course; moreover,
It, unpredictable and often abruptly come on, that
The best we can do is: closely configure taxes, keep
Good with the law, insure unlikely random violence, without
Getting paranoid or anything, buy often but pay prompto,
Listen to audio, sleep, eat well, exercise like hell, take
Naught not strictly prescribed, purchase within budget, waste
Not but want not either. And, well, sex- ? Good old sex?
It comes without towels, the cheese tooth-marked with it;
It comes without vowels, here, with a sprinkle of sunrise-
And thundering through the night on brooms of steel.