Going Down On The Grange

When Winter tidyness does not the stur assuage. When borderline frequencies don’t make out their want of a king to just any olde day. When the wine imbibes and the ale fades away. Well then how about some heavy sleep. Big time dreaming hum of a bus wold rolling down the great hiway. The dream, the interlude, the bright honors of a psalmody passing through. The rapture of humdrum, homespun, verified downtime.

The freshness of Spring, you see, is a feared thing, a scurrilous far off thing. Let the bunnies and the floral honeys plan for their roosts down in the comb, yeah. But let us not wretch at the fodder of our very own imimitable handles on the hours’ conquest of respite. If nothing is to be planned well then plain and simple nothing is to be garnered from without having its way.

A levee on the honest accords of want. To need to find a taker on by the shot loe tasking of recurrent shift in the pleasures of soon somedays returning to one with the fief of one’s rider. To go out on the lawn with becks and maybe Is and to guest with both the flora and the fauna of Mother Nature’s now open again lodges.

Completely in line with your wishes, mind you, and yet with her head above the waters in a way saying. Take it and take to it well. The wrest is that of sleep and no great and obfusicating burden of redown has need to bring anymore than recourse to the simple need to draw bridges before setting to many of one’s batches out on the tables.

Can you imagine the thoroughfares all opening up, just that famished, and saying Mamma feed me. My belly pocket is so empty I am squimmish to so much as lift the 1st of your wonderful cups of tea. Must have something from the larder to go by. Cereals and their grains. Dairy of cheeses and creams, the carnivore barkers and the fire of their most conditional lights.

Links set up one by one and given to the truck and bumper. A tilt a whirl sound of hot ballsap pine. The broacher in the loping gait of accustomed foggy woodland breakdownd amidst the sunshine. A kind of magic reserved for those things top drawer. The climactic exegisis of one gone tolerant head of the bobs. A booked sooth of mindful ribs and bouts.

The japing old monkey’s 1st Son. Glad to be held up to the discernment of ordinary and enviolate realms of the environment. In both locale and voice committed to the fealty of no such overdrawn solution. To the quick with you and loud. So that you will at least remember having had it as if things or rather familiars were going otherwise.

For the duration and of a destiny to more than survive. To prosper and to let go of and to outwardly receive those gifts in the light of jests. On the floor, between friends and older than the hills in their suggestions that these quips, these pips, should be more than convenient. They should actually in fact be saved.

Courageously and with much vigor. Lest the abased seat of time should have to quake for having not been given proper time to awaken from its lengthy drowse and commit to new joya and daylit productive hours of the steppy and the smiling phase.

Synod’s Eve

Cattails and reeds. Goose feathers and down. The levee on the pool. The weather on the Storm. Northern climes, the bog, turns from without in looking from the wide to draughts upon the wind. This concertine of apathy has fish morns to look over the moon. A sundog howls with Western dreams. Venus breasty meads the listing tide. The ocean wall resounds with deluge and icy freeze.

There are the aeon and the mileu. In that now is awarded the heretofore matter commending pony ride swagger and truck for the unwary idle dismount. A Corniche inn makes out with the train of mediant pines. Jack fruit is firefly. The ochrest jiles pedía flip qicks and hires. A linger of bobs skills a pecker their buggy ride to muggy digit wood.

Olden hammer and the scenic flow. A quartz diadem makes out giving rave spirit to the rolling tomorrows’ wake. With every evil befitting a wrench monkey left and the precariously ajar lid of á rusticus cully bough in the nondescript portion of remaining foodstuffs out of a moldering tin can.

All that deposed quantumineous agra dab. The green overflows. The muskrat hidden in the skinny and daft daisies. Máx mudgeons idiom out testwater lea. The ganders’ there wicky upper arcane gladness. With a booter and a jug the grand bloom in dizzy tinctures passion.

Step awry in dime draw and scurry your mully pie 👣 over the footfall. Situado amores los piedalias quinton. Saphire goes mission down and plugs in his dress mop. She must be kept sabor.

The newest griller a lexithumb gets bitten buffet style for mass of laúd and dreams. The bonnie wait has no time for plodding drives of South darker houseknot to greet with her herded. No and guessed the content carters de mi hast a caster anders and plucks. The hissy bugaboo japes and monkeys. Mister skanse the limit ripens. The ousted camps a diurnal spleen.

Midnight holes up with dreams gone dawning light-press. The stamping absurdistic stagecraft goes off with doggers chips and spackled exegesis in the name of consequence. Left your morning to be wrested from the sleep of good olden pan. Mustered 🍞 in the garage and grunge of back room studio gloomers’ reprieve. A sunshine smile and the end to the repeat.

Between Stops

If the rancorred out of alms surfeiting quidditch bedlam were, all sudden and joyous, to say we do receive you. Your joy, your pain, your serious examples of precience in your charge. This is the calm repose of an expectant and much concerned citizen. The queries unto the publishing of pride at a time like this is persona non grata at best. There are inequivably straight and narrow passes to roll by but for the inner lambaste of the hilarious ‘five spot’ returned in the middle of a trafficking street.

Why do you appear so full of glee? What does Saturnalia and wassailing must have knitting the psalmody of Providence. Is error to do with going a souling up into the Winters for solistice. The other side of the Moon is cracked open by taxidermist duck waddle. There are schools of ‘Bluebird’ busses that make their way pre-dawn down the same passes as the Roman legions in the Mythraic gear. The souls of Osiris and his children make due on the Summer side.

The tropic of Cancer takes her bath in a wheelhouse. There comes as well the Sud of that once archipelagoic North tolerant transmigrary of nascent love, long under the chase of the quaint and contrapted. The Orient makes final assessment by consensus of the high borne heirarchied repasses going up a frustrate pitch at the sight of a yearling hopping at the door. The breezy fireless equine strength is almost undue the remittance to savagry by the Levant and it’s sequence of events.

This makes most certy the bough is not to go nameless. As at last there arrived the old man with penchant airs. This all culumnating upon the mileu like airborne rectitude and mourning of the esplanade. New days dawn right on up and out of that same get back and stamp enth degree. Same as the time on my travelers’ papers I got a long ride back to tinsel town and Hollywood LA. There’s a tree cutter got to miss his date. And the deserted confab hutch has a few cats’ prints to explain for itself.

With these few time honored figs and mints of my imagination may your calends end upright and your domain get you through the steps your taking in your life today. This is returning and this is awakening. May your songs upwell bright. If the child is a million strong give him the 4th estate for his bearing and moor. The thoughtpot and the ringback vicarious be with you. Live and Let it be lol The BuddyHollyWoodyGuthrie Sign fly bye to you and you and you.

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