This is not fair

woman-holding-mirror-on-grass-reflection

 

On my way here,

Demi-lucid

 

Supine in

 

a white

wheelie

bin,

guess what?

 

What?

got some treasure

fallen it was

like a woman

 

 

 

loose, heavy,

easy display:

golden showers!

 

Reef

obtuse lanquid splashes

lit dense wet grass,

teasing out

emerald,

silver crystal

ephemeral sprites:

 

like

trinkets, but too

quick, robust,

capricious to pocket,

to show off

after

 

to softer, bolder presences…

 

Noon’s Guys gathered round,

casting shorter shadows,

Origin – a higher calling:

sotto voce potentates,

you know the sort,

plotting spring offensives

left me none the wiser

 

in fact

Sort of stiff,

jabs in brachia,

pains more swamped than killed.

 

Still a worry thought

cause for concern

thence diversion.

 

Two, no three, doughnuts.

Whoosh! Guess what?

It had gone.