Ghazal (of sorts)

[sleepinthewoods]

(1st line by e.e. cummings)

pity this busy monster, man unkind,
toil (trouble, bubble), can’t unwind

seeing through sunrise and stumble on stones,
follow what riddled fables you may find

useless words enclosed, false stories swallowed
seething rotting wasteful youthful minds

stories half written at birth: sun rises and sets,
pity this busy paper, page unlined

trees and (leaves) and stars (again)
all roads traveled, all stops unsigned

walk your gravel paths on concrete days;
leave this busy monster far behind

-MH

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Teaching high school is burning me out.