Come sit a while in my little, wood shack;
- I'll stoke the fire up, bright an' high, for you
- an' I'll cook you a, fit for royalty, snack :
- "Aye - pine needle tea an' a rabbit stew,
- course' - only if this all sounds good ta' you!"
- - - -
I'll place a black wolves' hide upon your back
- to ensure your bones don't feel the brisk draft
- which blows through the small, wood wall's cracks;
- nay - woodworking was not ever my craft!
- - - -
So - still - the blustery breeze blows, on, in;
- but - we drink, we eat, we talk & we laugh,
- an' we lose all track o' the time that's passed.
- - - -
Eventually we don't notice the breeze blowing in
- for - we've become two bits o' stardust rubbing skin.
- - - -
T'will be this act which causes Giddy ta' grin
- an' inspire his glowing heart ta' scribble out hymns.
April Second, Two-Thousand an' Seventeen