Other poles shifted
30 October 2015
The days hurried by
Grey repetition of beats
But for three red spots
I loved poppy fields
Often most when they touched skies
In red-blue embrace
A rabbit scurried
He bestowed me some nonsense
From bottled malice
The Earth spun around
Sun’s glorious stray dances
While I composed soul
The nightingale whirled
All wheels flew out of axis
Camp descent painful
A tadpole blinked twice
Its tongue caught a fly’s motion
Other poles shifted
I took crimson walk
Between yellow lines but fell
Forgotten in hay
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