A delight,
when the topping of night hits the **** of the day,and later
I lay,
where the curl of the blue as each morning anew,
like the twist of a snake brings me wide awake in the barn full of soft in a loft full of hay,and
today the old owl which was earlier a pest
sits now in a brood,in a nest and is silent, 'cept for the odd bit of whit, to tired now to sit watching shrews in the grass or the mice that would pass under his wizened,clawed feet,
like me he feels beat but he'll rest and the wise always win for it's them that know best.
A delight,
the first bite, when the cream pie of the day is there for the taking,slowly snaking away across the hours that we play
but we play anyway 'til the day snakes away into the distance of night.
A delight.