A word with no twig is a bird.
That’s what we’ve heard
Snug under Chickadee’s rug
Hovering
Miles & Miles of feet & truckloads of feathers
With no grounds to go to
— { . . . . . . . } —
Coffee didn’t kick yet this morn’
& it’s already &:42
& my buttons could use a ShoveL
the way Musie leaves them /lying around
Letters cut off, like an F
When I’m soulswept & could really use one
Love,
Nia
(Musie said something about Lovecraft & chair rails & it’s all in the toast & coffee, now wake up & talk qwerty to me, Cc…)
P.S. – Sorry, We forgot Reservations.