A Pisces in the Timothy

Wren on June 25th, 2008

The Timothy

The timothy is a lake of tickles and scrapes,
for capering and cackling in these
early days of fall.

I’m turning forty this winter.
I bring my dogs and goats and my
neighbor’s children to the edge and watch
the show.

The air is satisfied. I love it till I hate it.
The children crisscross the waves and swordfight.
The shelties dive, surface and pounce.

Random mice and voles are herded
like fish in schools, unseen in
brown water.

I’m a pisces in the timothy, a fish on land.
I’m a fish on land. Two inches, the right
flip and I could be righted.

The goats chew and check my location.
They depend on me and I live
vicariously. It’s t.v. Symbiosis, and the waves…
technicolor.

A warm clean breeze is a moment to be savored
on the tounge. I learn from the goats.

From the dogs–A hole is to dig.
And children…Where is the child I
planned to have? The timothy spits pollen in undulations.

I make it hard, a pisces in the timothy.

–Wren Tuatha

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