Writer's Minor Holiday

Thumb tacks spread out
Across your hometown state
Hollow tree at half mast
Wait until wintertime
Leaves a paper trail a licorice plant that's overgrown

Like a cabin in the woods on a minor
Like a minor holiday

Wool rich red plaid wolf
Irish whiskey glass
Here comes my fine bright haired lass
Like a trash fire burning and burning it
My heart could never right the words never fail

Tucked under your cap and for a moment
There's a stillness before the room spins again
Minor holiday, spin it again
Ride it out so you can tell

Wasted on the weekend
Making good time with my excuse
Where the plot lines are like dead ends
Floating in her eyes at the bottom of a well
Floating in her eyes ride it out for a spell

Minor holiday
Transfer this weight
Minor holiday
Transfer this weight
Going back and forth
On a minor, minor holiday