pitchfork by pitchfork

Dottie and i laughing

(about things including but not limited to: darien in his rare hood

as king of the ringwraiths)
as we try to find the grain
in the pile of pummies that we pluck up and toss into the cart
pitchfork by pitchfork
at the northwest edge of north garden
_______
cat entertainment center i say
about the small and colorful birds
squawking in the huge white cage
in the lobby at the vet’s office
where gibbous so chill-ly is with us
having not emitted one scared yowl
the entire journey thus far
_______
the sounds of two barred owls calling
over my head
back and forth as heard from my desk
in the cedar room
whose walls/windows are not even the closest thing to airtight which means
it sounds like the calls are moving
over me

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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