Make Hay At Sun🌞 Up

                           1.     

It is my morning, though shadows cast

With whom I have become companion

My talk mate who though never responses

Agrees to all I say to help ease my worries

It is a great day to go to the woods, meet dew

Who draws water from weather to horde 

Sprinkling enough to wet, cooling bones

Tickling the buds famish for tasteful quench 

Here on my side of the river, my eyes watches

Toast to freedom, price that come with age

I hunger for turn, to climb the stage, have a go

Someday if casket would not have me first

So time passed, the snake continually doffing

Softly, steadily, subtly, rings of years fell off

Casket of wood merged with earth, now sand

Alas, all rise, the pond is mine to drink to my fill

                              2

Picking the bunch eyes caste on my gluttony

My dandy pumped unending with juice

Bubbling and gobbling, supplies never low

To think concerning vigilance or caution

My bonny rod of Moses arrestive as  happy

Shimmering channels of my veins thin

Laced with claret like romping thunder

Tumbling twigs and weeds in the flow

Lack was I, diligence of one, homespun 

Meekness and virtue to the wind I threw

Pond I drained showing grass I ditched

To the river with much water I headed

To have her sing to me as I laze all day

Speak to me as I rock to sleep

I would not pack a dearest to stay fair

I simply toss a coin in the air

To opt for one who to commit to consume

I woo with disregards; I, as sleek as a heifer

For chance to forever stay, I begged, adjured

Obvious that time is done by turns, I abjured

The sun has it’s timing: Time to head home, 

And as the sky darkened, I hastened gathering 

What hay laid strewn, where I shoveled

                            3

The world I was leaving laid before me

The winds no longer part to free my way

But push back, mincing like cat in my ears

What my legs would past do, turned bother

I still stayed good as goose though, charming;

Still desiring that the river ebb and flow by me

Where I wished however shadow be with me

So, we sit under the shine of the moon to gist

Ghost, it turned instead has taken the position

I can hear clearly, the ghost sing but know not

In what slang; of such horrible bunk, the sound

For when such times were mine, jargon differed

This is like, cavalier heading home to roost, for

As the river has gone by installments, calmer

So clouds blocked moon rays from my eyes

I have turned a golden cat without whiskers

Fixed at door step of death, not youth or aged.

When then I am at such chapter

I rock, chewing non-existent meat

To suddenly stop to stare hard at you

Do not ponder wrongly, for I see me back then

My eyes screaming at you: go make hay now!

As never ripen is but itchy by fledglings, myopic.