TS Eliot After Listening To Billy Collins 
And A Day On Otay Mountain 

April is the plumpest month

When the nearby mountain 

Puts on pounds and pounds

Of wildflowers bingeing in every color

While wayward waterfalls,

Britches burst from rain 

And Prufrocked boulders,

Intoxicate this old grinning poet 

Waddling, wandering, wondering
What’s for supper and, of course
Dessert, over such fat 

And happy ground.