My heart beats flutter like a darn skylark,
To sounding jolts of cock-a-doodle-doos,
Repealing soon the cover of darkness
Until the crack of dawn, my heart he woos;
And soon a grin beside the morning’s glee
Propels me with a pot of brewing tea,
And more demands for years, I wish to flee,
The arduous routines but excluding me,
Except the tiger prancing in the night,
To taunt me with his desire, we fight.

Hear now, the evening song by mourning dove,
The timely notes of mirth and pains unfold,
As in the lines of time, I gently move;
And yet for this regard, I’d be so bold
To sing in C this section of my pain,
The labor raising birth I long recall,
The stormy weather in last morning’s rain.
She’s still my love here after broken fall;
Relief in sweet refrain, my eyes record,
The bitter sweet pause without life’s discord.

My Cardinal so oft’ complaints has been
About the taut infancy of Night Sage,
And long recalls the quarrels stem between
The bumble bee and the flirty Russian Sage;
Ah, how wish I just for this least reward
Of dandelions and Forget-Me-Nots;
In tender moments, I propel forward
A wish for that regard my heart now plots,
As one red bird still clamors all about
The space between us in tonight’s dugout.

In Gleaners, I recall the labor force;
If Millet could rethink this here, subject,
And then recapture working me, divorce,
Just how much of me would he now project?
My gender in my Venus flytrap rails
For that sweet sap in his wine press of time;
As for my soul, this present moment jails
Inside the belly of my dark sublime.
So much more gaps in this rap left to tell
Of all the sundry times it felt like hell.

As life awards royalty perchance,
Consider Lady Diana of Wales,
Or Lady Marie Antoinette in France,
And how the crown includes these lucky tales.
Few dialogues every now and then
About the savings in the joint accounts
Disturb me so and all too much for when
Demands are made for singular amounts,
Despite the checks and balance in the mean,
It’s tit for tat expensive money scheme.

Much less the glee upon my pillow shines,
Dispatching slowly dancing shadows now
Upon my walls displaying warning signs
Where sketchy thoughts this time begin to plow,
In fields where fleeting memories recline,
Beneath the shimmering moonlight above,
About the somber morning star’s decline,
Beside the last decry of mourning dove.
Until now, I did not see the night owl
Of darkness drinking water from my bowl.

How much I linger for the rooster’s crow
Outside the darkest time refrains of night;
Inside my soul his candle light still glow
As for departing sun my eyes stay bright.
Here gathers soon the dust of little time,
The cloudy matters of the falling dusk,
So ever still this fate, unfriendly mine,
The spinal tap inside my gnashing tusk,
A mouthful left to bragging heart’s impulse
To flee the chewing of the present louse.

My body lies now with the giant reed
And rushes in the lovely poppy fields,
Where butterflies upon wild flowers feed,
Beside the frogs and all in sappy meads.
Huh, every now and then but strangely so,
My lasting spirit sees who linger still
In weeds where dainty blossoms come and go,
Although just one who cares would stay until
My heart with pleasure fills and heaps the earth,
A berm, upon which love meets love with mirth.