V. 2, #89: June 25, 2013

Some days there's just no water in the fountain,
no wind to blow your sailboat to the shore,
no rope to haul yourself with up a mountain,
no apple left around the bitter core.

Some days you've emptied every brimming vessel,
and spent your last two bits at the arcade;
some days the train's gone clean around the trestle,
and all that you can make has done been made.

But some days there's a jar of peanut butter
with just a little left stuck to the side.
You grab a knife, and scrape and cuss and mutter
and finally get your craving satisfied.

It isn't much--it isn't even free.
But some days, friend, it doesn't have to be.