19th June 2020

Little boxes, little boxes
I remember Pete Seeger singing wistfully
Thinking how very quaint and true
After all we are all so similar
Hair from the same beast’s coat
Moulted singly but rapidly joining into matted clumps
Around the edges of nature’s wondrous bounty
To be eventually brushed beneath the deciduous carpet.
I live in a blue box
Luckily its larger on the inside
My dogs coat surrounding me
He moults quite consistently
Liver and white gifts to the gods
Soft down for those rheumatic ancient bones
Creeping nightly from the dank forested hills
To peep at those who ignorantly snore away.
As I dream of Avalon
Each night the spectral boat will come
Offering safe passage for two
Man and wiser beast 
A passage to satanic hills
Valhalla for the Anglo Saxon
Sitting left and right of majestic Arthur
Till triumphant cadence calls we lucky few for battle.

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