On the first Saturday
of the second month
there was three weeks rain.
Followed by four knocks on the door
five thunderous stamps on the floor
and six times the combined sound in echo.
After seven minutes I could take no more
it took eight long strides to reach therefore
turning the handle nine degrees to outpour
tea from a pot I’d been brewing ten bags before.
Blog post title wordplays Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon movie.
For those who made it thus far, here’s your bonus poem!… and more coffilosophy!:
11.35: The sun wakes up;
emerging from cloud covers.
It hasn’t got its hat on today
but seems ready to play.
I write as an insect keeps scurrying,
leaving a trail of letters:
provoking wrath as evidence of my path;
mortally wounded but driven on
by something built into it.
We can see it happening with our
human brains and eyes,
but don’t know what its thinking.
Maybe something can see
us the same way, running around
destroying our world, thinking we’re
of some use.
Maybe they think they know how to help
us, but don’t think they should intervene:
disrupting nature etc.
mistYmuse 