Licensed teller of told tales taken as trials
or trails,
if you believe, this
is not my first rodeo.

Socialization in a fledgling nation.
We gathered, we being the culture that
bhor me, in the dry land where winter
is not bad, and summer times have peaches, sweet,
and shady groves of cottonwood, los alamos, 'n willows.

A delicate ecology,
efforting ants and things, effectually
bring blooms to lands scraped by raging sea,
that brought mountains of red mud,
when the Ice wall none could pass was smashed.
Back, way back.
Before then,

here was a story we told.

---
83.33333333333333 - and so on, hour based
attention paid, monthly
measured time, each year,
for five years. Reproof.
Correction, calculation, arch and destination

You. Right between the eyes.

On the spot. Out bound, string kite pulls
the spider whose trails test the tensions of dew
drops.
Drips of fluid thought, soft enough to imagine
not being
but
we are, you know, licensed to learn for ever's own
sake.

Aye, we know, strings of theories and threads of thought
leave dust bunnies and ghost turds behind
the piano and under the pedal that lets
the bass note go on to infinity if
you listen longer than old men can imagine.
-------

On and on, ever reaches
meaning more often
than misses the efforting expending the thread

pending revision, the first seed sown,
signals,
this space is taken,
soil comes to comfort the thing that just thought
it was a flower,

an attractive artifice imagined all luring, as light,
in the night,
deer see,
something says - wow, what could that possibly be?

---
the power of prayer. verily.

wait and see, we have a pattern this fits in,
it makes a tool a fool can prove.

And all the people said so be it… in their gnative tongue.