You creep, crawl
with a snarl in the treetops, dreaming to develop the freshest meadow
to drown raining worry. The worry of you.
You have time
It’s a lazy afternoon.
Buttercup yellows and sunshine tease the green, making it envious of
you, in your top hat.
Searching for answers. Bursting with life through a thirst
live there if you have a story to sell
Wait. A man, wearing stubble
hatless and heartful –
somebody blind with a sight for sickness