The ocean has no owner
The wind still is free
Every window has a viewer
Every needle holds a tear
This one wispers shiny voices at dawn
And at sunrise tissues blured, always throughout a mosquito screen:
Abe and the remaining three sets of chops,
A blue stringed hanging chair profiting inertia from the wind;
Swinging from a tree.
While the river plays his music and the night starts to sing
They I´ll be ready for a feast at fall in a couple of months.
To the west nests a Bold Eagle
For her bundle from the river she provides...
- Suspecting she has already scanned those lambs. Not shure though, just guessing -