(from Pluck Gems from Graves: Haikus, a book in progress).

This evening’s Black sound
Walks like a cat on grass blades
Your nickname two-steps

Get back to your poems
Don’t forget to wear your mask
Main Street is empty

Can’t rock your hoodie
Your cliques of affinity
Might lead to arrest

A virus walk break
Twilight stroll to compost bin
Two rusty leaves rap

Go ’head, bro, dance
There are no mirrors in this joint
You used to love her

Draw her some roses
The before times are ending
Lost my love letters

Pandemic fashion
The maples need to speak up
Detroit Reds all day

To live in this hour
Recall a jukebox love song—
Punk-ass church bells

Perfect ending
A red-tail rolls over the steeple
Dandelion gigs

Pull the dream catcher
A death count on the broadcast
April is chillin’

A bebop wake up
Getting my shit together
Brew some Bustelo

Copyright © 2021 by Willie Perdomo. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on February 9, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets.

There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, "It is just as I feared!--
Two Owls and a Hen,
Four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard!"

There was an Old Man in a tree,
Who was horribly bored by a Bee;
When they said, "Does it buzz?"
He replied, "Yes, it does!
"It's a regular brute of a Bee!"

There was a Young Lady whose chin,
Resembled the point of a pin:
So she had it made sharp,
And purchased a harp,
And played several tunes with her chin.

This poem is in the public domain.

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

From The Poetry of Robert Frost edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright © 1923, 1947, 1969 by Henry Holt and Company, copyright © 1942, 1951 by Robert Frost, copyright © 1970, 1975 by Lesley Frost Ballantine. Reprinted by permission of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.