tickled fallen broken lacking
all things never wanted throwing
out the back door trash can burning
lighting laughing smiling churning
noting nothing ever smoking
feeling nothing never wanting
waning knowing never stopping
till then growing walking talking
stalking
the sieve and the sand 
Trochaic tetrameter…I am pleased.
Plus I enjoy the occasional spondaic stumbling block, i.e. “back door trash can.”
(My profession, as you can see, is meter reader.)
better than meter maid