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I stopped periodically
to slog through fields;
as light drizzle drifts down,
turning path muddy.

boots heavy with mud.
tracks of deer mingle
with mine; clearing
one's mind of all
frivolous thinking. 


oh, those so-called pillars of society;
in outward appearance only.
and the inside: pious and cunning.

searching for their next mark;
just within the law; but barely.
certain to cross that old
proverbial think line at any time.

full of indignation when caught;
if ever caught. 
so very many never are. 


well, this is the day before tomorrow;
soon to be day after yesterday
where all days gather 
to reminisce best of all days.

play days and play night;
where lovers hang out for love;
then waking up alone;
far away from home.


well, the days, they grow shorter.
temps, they become cooler.
and the fools, they multiply
substantially; making up a 
good part of our populace.

and we cry out in our sleep;
for no apparent reason
than to hear ourselves cry
for all we've laid wasted. 


never get caught
sneezing out of season.
the wrath of madness
will ascent upon us;
making us sorry at hell
we sneezed out of season.

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