Dream Scribe

2022-11-12 00:05:00 (UTC)

Bovine Hotel.

One by one they jump through hoops ;
Twist the lock on the chain gate tighter ;
Trust the bulls in the next field :
To lie still and leave the beekeeper be.

You can wade in the shallows
Of a still river ;
Curse the Wind Man's mistake ;
Put the Fair Mistress to bed.
But don't expect The Bright Blackbird to sing in the morning,
Or fly northwest as the sunset dies in.

Bubblegum and gumboots are selling
out soon ;
Sold out to the lowest bidder who
Hides behind desktops and pens with no ink.
I hear no bells when the notification starts my phone a-hopping,
No nothing whatsoever.
It comes as no surprise.

Summertime is creeping in,
Fallow land will be warmed through
With rain and the sun's heat shall enrich anew.

Very soon, Christmas bells will sing
Their own sweet carol
Streets will be strewn with tinsel
And the cows will feast on new clover.

I have a new coin in my purse, bought by time.

You know which way to go now.
But don't be long.
The home ocean knows no secrets.