Poem By Barbara Haskell
to the smoker's corner,
oh, how lucky I am!
My vision rests upon feasts for the human eye;
there is the warm glow from the lamp,
casting its light upon the desk
and miniature birdhouses abound,
painted with sunflowers, cascading vines,
cute little birds and butterflies.
A glance out the window
to a landscape blanketed with trees.
Joker is in the corral, along with Andre, the goat,
Oh, yes, banished to the smoker's corner,
where a feast awaits the human eye.