psalm of barley

“gentle whale, full of grace,
let the hobbit toddle free…”

the holy roller scarecrow looked down
upon fallow fields
and called the crows to order

there was merriment amongst frogs
but the geese were pissed off, as usual

clouds folded into treetops
to be nearer the bearer
of green tidings

words of growth made worms wiggle
in a new way- like jitterbugging in mud

Uncle Fester giggled with his bees
and it looked like rain
in the next county

“I’m the middle finger,” I thought
as the landscape closed into a fist

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