Unexpected poetry

Crested penguin with a typically grumpy expression gazing at the viewer in pure disdain.

Well, hello there, little poem-y thing. You are not what I planned to write, but here we are, & that’s all right.

Are you a raw, childish self-indulgence? A mawkish bit of tacky sentimentality? In a million ways no one’s Cup O’Tea, creatively speaking?

Entirely Likely. Don’t care.

What will I do with you? Nothing. Producing Content isn’t always the point.

You exist, & I uncritically love that you exist now when you didn’t yesterday. That’s that matters.

Second time in a week I’ve written something unplanned. Must be something in the air. Or else I’m procrastinating.

Possibly both. Energy and avoidance are a powerful team.