True Rumours

by grimbeau

 

 

gadd

 

The year is shaping,

form finds content in

mulch and gunge,

from primal gloop comes novelty

Everything assumes a name:

Rose, Spud, and Daisy to name but three.

And this year’s offspring: Prim, Tatty, and Iris.

Pleasant thoughts to have for sure.

Looking forward to plenty more.

Signs of hope…

Bang!

I kid you not.

The dog just barked.

Here’s the cops.