2pm
Bo Peep Hill by Veronica Van Eijk
bromegrass timothy couch and creeping red fescue
birdsfoot grosswort hawksbit and trefoil
trampled and crushed underfoot with equal distain
as wearily over the brow of bo peep hill i toil
stop to rest and defecate
add more methane to the atmosphere
swallow the cud bring up another to chew
tail swishing flies away tongue flicking up a nostril musing
I've never seen friesland although i am a fresian
below the farmhouse tucked in the crease of hills
unchanged though the time i have known it
people come and go one sitting making images of me
ruminating on the meaning of these things reflecting
through the eye of this beholder
the harpie Nic and cloud clockwork and bisto are not welcome to read my blog or use me in any way , there are thoughts in your own head huns
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