It's probably a good thing Robert Frost lived in New England. I've always loved this poem of his:
The way a crow / Shook down on me
The dust of snow / From a hemlock tree,
Has given my heart / a change of mood,
And saved some part / Of a day I had rued.
The problem with that, of course, is it's harder to apply to life out here in the blazing deserts. I was trying to figure out how to rewrite Frost to make his verse a bit more applicable, and herewith present the following for your reading pleasure.
The way a waitress/ Gave to me
A cup of joe / From Mel's eatery,
Has saved my day / And made me smile,
I won't go postal / Yet awhile.
Or how about:
The hummingbird / attacking me,
A falcon in / Small mimicry,
His tiny valor / spurs me on,
Uh-oh. Where has that / darned thing go—AUUGGGGHHH!
Or:
Coyotes scrounge / For carrion,
Not fit for dogs / To tarry on.
Like them I vow / I'll brave my fate,
Whoever shows / For this blind date.
You think if I keep following in Frost's footsteps, I too could be Poet Laureate some day? Oh well. I had a feeling you'd say that.