I wake to the sound of shovels,
2 a.m., beneath backyard azaleas,
The ghosts are digging up the money tree,
As you pull me aside, you note
the heart-throb pith of a watermelon,
The ghosts return & return.
You know, don’t you, this snowglobe
This poem is a reflection of its writer's financial aesthetic...& perhaps a few other things.