My mom-in-law actually has a wicker chest of journals, and our birch tree does rain down lovely little golden stars at the first hint of fall. All other streaming thoughts...other than a weariness over the never-ending combat of candidates...are purely fictional, nonsensical, and serve no purpose but to please me while they dance and play.
So there you have it.
Silly's In The Air
Once when silliness reigned
in her heart and the sky
as it rained dancing golden brown star-pointed leaves
None could wrest her from rest
as heart pounded in chest
subtle rhythm like cadence-born fingers on chest
Much like chest at her feet
full of journals of feats
and of hands that had lifted her spirits replete
So that here she remained
to hear all that remained
of star dancing leaves and of silly reprieves
From the portent of all
such important things Fall
such as chill air and coming elections
