Have you in stillness brought
to mind a scheming thought
or when your hand is at work on a task
and you have a quiet moment at last?
A plan out of the blue
came while I hooked loops through
my latest artful inspired creation
a hand-made colorful meditation.
Fit, slip, slot, pull, and tug
my yarn becomes a rug
so that a random thought came late at night
and without effort left me an insight.
To my own self it was
as if I had just cause
to dream or think or scheme of comeuppance
to deal with hooligan Ben wrote-up once.
I didn’t choose outright
nor with myself infight.
I didn’t spend hours working out plans
deciding which crook did rightly demand
to be first in the line
getting payback sublime.
Fit, slip, slot, pull and tug. Who else could weave
sweet retribution so my friends won’t grieve?
Fresh ragweed tangled up
add a sweet buttercup.
Putting fumes toxic in flowered surprise
would nicely the poisoned allergen hide.
Fit, slip, slot, pull and tug
leaves only to which thug
my first fine rugged, inspired herb braid
should artfully, fragrantly be repaid.
Could it be? Did I see
my neighbor quietly
clipping and saving fall’s last allergen?
Why should I right away suspect poison?
Violet Marguerite –
calm, serene and so sweet.
But I’ve seen my neighbor cause some alarm
reacting to near-by brutes with due harm.
Now she sits hooking rug,
wearing a smile so smug.
Perhaps she’s recently stolen a peak
onto my private well-studied critique.
I may have deserv’d guilt
placing research I’ve built
regarding local dishonored scumbags
left out on my porch like old-time news rags.
How long can this go on?
When will they mow the lawn?
I see my neighbor add flower petals
to a growing rug while my mind meddles.
Or maybe I should thank
my neighbor for her prank.
Violet Marguerite with poison plant
lets artfully, scented comeuppance decant.
I – conflicted – stand by
while she lets payback fly.
So maybe I should my guiltiness curb
as, weaving, she plans attack with an herb.
Some things you can’t abide.
Please believe me – I’ve tried.
I can’t sit stewing in these past bad acts.
It’s up to me to deliver impacts.
Con, liar, cheat, and fraud,
all so equally-flawed.
With so many choices my mind now flirts.
Which hoodlum gets rug made from just deserts?
Someone whose very breath
depends on cleaniness.
Mayhap I can add to fall’s filthy air
leaving a culprit more than their fair share
of pollen’s evil fume
left in my rug’s yarn plume.
A fiendish full-breath might lay out the scum;
perhaps I should add dash of capsicum.
Now is time to decide
who gets my payback pride.
I vote for Margo, who has issued bribes.
She’ll get attention for bad business vibes.
She has a history
of autumn’s breath worry.
Lucky for me it is ragweed’s season,
giving a truly excellent reason
to clip and save for fun
before gard’ner does come.
I’ll save enough weed to bring Margo down
and give pulmonary hospital gown.
Weaving fresh herbs with some
nice buttercup blossom
will nicely fit in a bedside gift rug
to be breathed nightly by this local thug.
Pleasantly I will wait
extended payback date,
for it may take a few over-night’s sleep
to bring due reward to this bully creep.
Margo I recall well.
Her flaws a friend did fell.
The online chat this morning informed:
she is breathing-apparatus-adorned.
While medics helping her
tried to ease heart murmur,
she was prescribed a stay in hospital.
Her business transactions will likely stall.
You know what people say:
karma will soon repay.
When business sly people do let things slide,
payback will greet them on the other side.
My only regrets lay
in giving rug away.
My good woven efforts now are in vain
but for delivering breath-taking pain.
People may still wonder
why I would weave plunder
with such seasonal sensitive bloom.
Even a dirt clod could fairly assume
no rag weed virtuous
can be found near us.
Except in my garden with plant-rich blend
where poison herbs I do carefully tend.
Gardeners will soon come
at this season’s end run
to tidy and clip and the lawn mow,
disguising my errands with rake and hoe.
Margo may question why
a gift from me came by.
Then she will look and see my frailty
deciding to believe my no guilt-plea.
Have I now completed
my last payback meted?
I’ll just patiently let all other crooks
sit and brew in their self-unrighteous looks.
Maybe they will receive
Or perhaps they are just marking bad time
until my herbs grow a new payback vine.