Rabbitz Foote

When the architect Rabbitz Foote came on the scene,
he would not design anything with a thirteen.
But one day at his desk he just thought, come what may,
and he vowed he would put superstition away.

(Rabbitz Foote was uneasy with this and with that;
  he would feel butterflies when he saw a black cat.
  and on Friday the 13th he’d lower his head,
  thinking all his world under a ladder instead.)

He felt joy deep inside and he stifled a tear;
then he vowed he would celebrate all through the year.
I will pick a fine restaurant just to be nice;
yet he could not decide, so he reached for some dice.

Right away, Rabbitz Foote was ashamed of his bane:
To decide, I return to my old tie again!
Is it hard to remember that it is my call?
I need not drop dem bones nor consult crystal ball.

I am not a machine, Rabbitz thought to himself,
nor a rose without water left up on the shelf.
Though I work with hard wood, strong composites and steel,
in the construct of reason I know how I feel.

Then he went to the woods so to quiet his urge;
he made note that his weakness was this side of scourge.
In the place of green leaf where the scented winds blow,
he would find that his call was indeed apropos.

(In that verdant surround he took stock of his fault;
  right away he considered himself as spilled salt.
  Yet then tearing his rabbit’s foot off his key chain,
  Rabbitz tossed it aside in moment of sane.)

He would press on without superstition’s dark need,
and would write in the journals that architects read.
Rabbitz Foote saw the light with a word to his wise,
and escape from unreason was his greatest prize.


32 Lines (Anapestic Tetrameter)
Writer’s Cramp
3-14-15
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Requirements:
--black cat
--Friday the 13th
--under a ladder
--spilled salt
--rabbit’s foot