I think, therefore iambic pentameter

The bayou is strewn with black-eyed Susans, Queen
Anne's lace, Whopper wrappers, and the feathers
Of several anonymous birds. An ice-cream truck
Meanders through the neighborhood, blaring, "Go
Tell Aunt Rhodie." Occasional honking suggests
That goose may not entirely be dead.
The eviscerated dove most certainly is.
Same goes for the grackle, but who is there
To hear the news, dear reader, except for you?
It's enough to make one wonder whether or not
It's worth the risk to open one's eyes to spring.