Poets Notice Everything

[These poems were written in response to the prompt: "Poets notice everything."]

When did my hair
get so gray?

Did my bottom always

jiggle this way?

And if I may be so bold,

when did my husband

get so old?

I hear a poet will always note

the separate threads

that make the coat.

The writer with the artist’s heart

will see each piece,

will note each part.

I don’t notice much,

I forget the rest.

So if this is the litmus test

There is one thing I can clearly see,

a poet I will never be.

            --Sappho

As I look around this circle

I find it hard to see

an image of anyone at thirty or forty

What color was your hair?

Were you lovely? Wrinkle free?

I know you only in these faces

you’ve grown into, dear to me.

I’m glad I know you all

at your apogee.

            --Zazu

I notice notices.

Note the following:

dead end   no turn around

no dogs except on leash

do not exceed weight limit

beware of dog

beware:  microwave in use

no through traffic

no-fly zone

exit only

employees only

under penalty of law do not remove this tag

your subscription is about to expire

be kind               rewind

no outside food allowed

wash your hands

walk bikes through tunnel

do not adjust this thermostat

do not adjust your set 

no entrance

no passing

no parking

no dumping

no smoking

no littering

no loitering

post no notices!

You're on notice:  take notice of notices!

            --Agatha