A complaint 
turns into a tirade 
and those nearby 
are forced to 
sit 
in 
the 
muck 
with me 
as I go on and on and on
about the unbelievable nature of humanity…

…until… 

…the startling-deep-soft crimson of autumn’s mighty oak 
lures my eyes from the noise 
and all of me, 
including the lash of my tongue, 
stops 
and 
stares…

Oh, what joy for all, 
when 
praise 
happens.