like that pill bitter Sunday morning (after) with a nauseating hack the previously uneventful Tuesday derailed in surrealistic tale with Auntie and Jack (and a quarter of fate) in the 748 on a night flight from Sherwood to Lore
reverberating waves of imminent summer haze river flats and flower fields fly weights and silver bait shredders and shysters and open gates (into those everlasting and sweated journeys of hope)
bloods and strays and florentine grays (reminiscent of Rockwell fame) running horses and overgrown country lanes morning grace and gentle cheer eyes clear on the river pass blunted paddles for those ancient and not so willing suckers!
duke making his own way (to the corner club) Parsons and Poe stream from the torn screen door cricket cadence and symphony of the Deere calm and deliberate in the soft and silent fields
meadows open for grazing (guineas scamper across the till) pocket apples fill the country ripe air drunken bees and chestnuts and electric fingers strike the surface pool (a cedar ***** wedged on the white wash dock)
baited bull heads set to cast evenings with hearts and Nolten Nash may flowers bloom across the grass ~ time unmatched ~ with blue jays and river bends and channel cats ...and that warm and recurring Coleman drift