After coppicing The turkeys come. They stand and bow; Need not know how We release borers Into their custody, Digestive tracts-- And honor acts of Kindness, sacrifice, Cruelty, food chain. This is how the universe Remains in mystery. It is also a nursery.
Found deep in another century, trimmed Into lockets, carried in pockets --paper, Light and silver-salts-- evolved a Distillate of rainbows, an age at which We learned to expel excitement in new Ways through time, space, its swales and Bends by bowing, falling out both ends.
In keeping with my recent theme of cats and it being rather late at night, I have elected to do it again. You are welcome to visit examples on all 3 of my blogs --please click here and here. I hope you also enjoy this bit of doggerel, er...catterel:
Norma named her Noire --who has grown To claim her eucalyptus Throne-- a cat-shaped Droplet of night, she Assumed royal rights Between barkbeds and Flowers, has powers of Rare device yet does, Unlike lesser rulers do, Eat mice; good thing too!
I will use this Normaphoto of Tux to retain eye-contact with the audience --something I've had trouble with, even back in 2008.
Thought is reception Less like time unseen Than grass quivering Over seed --we Are suggestible. In circuitry, potentials Isolated and rhythms Set and yet simply We follow the tremendum Of birth --of sensing, seeing-- The incomparable change From Not Being to Being, And Live --love and yet We promptly forget.