Crunchtime Brunchtime
From Our Home Correspondent.
Cherooted to the spot,
overshadowed
by some tree made giant
by Oktober suns low chariot,
this crisp Oktober noontime hour
in frosted sharp clear air.
*
Gentlemen wash & change,
Do not shave till sundown,
The flavour of the day –
crude coarse heretical cripple.
And if it’s out its wrap up warm,
three thick layers, thick socks,
smart black gloves and torn bandana.
To go where, where to go?
Just out. That’s all. Just Out.
*
Come, task me a challenge,
throw down a gauntlet
& I’ll throw my old
straw hat in the ring,
& should I fail I’ll
eat the bugger up,
and if I don’t you will
The game’s afoot.
Grimbeau 