The challenge I’m taking:  write a poem in which each line except the last takes the form of a single, declarative sentence. Then, the final line should take the form of a question.

Work-Life Balance

Wind blows warm promises in my ear.

Returning Robins romp-splash in ponds grown low.

Migrating cranes cause fish to take cover.

Remnants of fall scuttle across the surfaces.

Algae blooms, as frogs peep-creak out.

What was that warm promise?  Work?