The sunset falls on an old
day and the cover sprawls
into night sky

my days seem long by their
dusks but never
quite long enough

by the time my cock crows
and my boots make
to go to and fro for the daily bread

two weeks and months ahead
a time I hoped would be now
once upon a time in my past

Eyeblink fast it fleetingly flows
shrooming blooming or blossoms
whether I play ostritch or possom

with the ground to my face
and the sky to to my bottom
as if my fruits had gone rotton

but i’d rather them distilled
for thrice the thrill,
and feel fulfilled

in my new beginnings