May Poem 27

These folks have been west at 2 a.m.

Gathering impressive numbers.

This entity is the Bream,

The backyard buttered toast made here

Since before European colonization.


This was their population

Like the Audubon Society,

A bunch of ghosts

Who make their most concentrated effort

At favored fish for the table.


Mitch experiences for many,

And did so for me

From early wood fire,

Homemade sausage, and native plants.


Mitch and I were visiting with an unusual

Diminutive creature that defies morning.

Blues Ally coincided with sunrise.

We cooked breakfast on a drift

When he mentioned the plant sale.


I timber along the edges,

So when I am seeing things

In the old home from search of catfish,

Plants are, I think, your childhood until now,

What spring fishing, bacon, and eggs are

Fresh from a chicken coop

Indigenous to the region.


He added, however, the September things

That attract him to the house are

Purely grand Insects and birds and deer

And such that have idea of ghost’s persuasion

Activity and the full moon just before daylight.

All were hard against tradition and simplicity

As well as original content

Including new hit series Amazon flies us.


It may seem odd to go to a nature plant,

Ghost ear, or red belly.

But regardless of where we went,

We followed a prescription

That lay preserve to see an old house.


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