Listen to the cold
bats chatter still time before
the loquats come up ripe how can the
green-fuzzed hardness of their present stave off
the time for nets and hand-to-hand fighting
it makes it seem like
summer when you
compete with things that fly
listen for them
wheeling through the night
cackling in the wee
small hours building
buttress to their
trickery I become
a woman on a
porch speaking
keep on driving you touch the fruit
you die
Love it
ReplyDeleteSecond it
ReplyDeletethe long rhyme!
ReplyDeleteI told you I listen to you....LOL
DeleteIt was like a delayed couplet for the same effect
Delete