Forcing Back The Weeds

I am a good deal older than my neighbor.
Being youthfully flexible,
and still a light thing in this world,
he "gets about" more than I,
and sees the farther-scapes
from strange perspectives.

This morning, as the sun still slid sidewise
across the matted floor,
he burst in through the window,
perched upon my bookshelf
and proclaimed the nearing dooms
of this bright day.

I tend just to ignore the more vocalic violences
of his exuberating nature,
he wholesales exaggeration,
and knows nothing of minimalism.

Suddenly: Thunder.
The perfect alarm for bringing my nose
out of its book.