theres a gazillion birds in the garden airspace at least a gazillion i counted them and one big black cloud whos guilty of withholding the rain i need there two dozen contrails made from sterility conspiracy and unnatural vapour and there two white feet mine theyre hobbit like & hoof like changing & morphing before my gaze and i look away ( wide eyed & worried )
to the black cat sitting just right the way they do in impossible perfect construction & peace and theres a moody wasp he looks like hes going insane fly here fly there and repeat its uncomfortable to see hes deep in an indecision breakdown and i wonder if i should twat him into an oozing squash on the pebble filled patio cement