A poem at 4:51 in the afternoon

Usually I write in the morning.  I was too busy today... way too busy to write.  When I finally sat down about twenty minutes ago, this is where I ended up.  Hmmm.

Is nothing like

Morning poetry.

By 4:51

So many decisions

Have been made,

So many people encountered,

The air now so full of pollen,

My ears irrevocably

Plugged.

By 4:51

The redbud has now dropped its purple.

I can no longer make heads or tails

Of the day.

No

A poem at 4:51

Is nowhere near

As fresh

As one written

In the morning,

Even though the sun

Has just emerged.

I can tell

This is nothing

Like the morning.