The chilli and the cayenne
don’t evoke such tears
as the reading of the will,
burden of the years.
O, the iron rail can rust
as red as desert dirt
from morning through the seasons
before there’s any hurt.
They water both together,
the teardrop and the eye,
here and now in the know
whenever any cry.
Clatter of the wattlebirds
tells a starting of the day
as bee-holding bottlebrush
sends suburbs on their way.
From growing of the tree
olive and the olive branch
are food and thought of how
peace begs a chance.
From morning through the seasons
the reading of the will
is as the juggler takes it,
to catch oranges or spill.
They water both together
the teardrop and the eye
here and now in the know
whenever any cry.
don’t evoke such tears
as the reading of the will,
burden of the years.
O, the iron rail can rust
as red as desert dirt
from morning through the seasons
before there’s any hurt.
They water both together,
the teardrop and the eye,
here and now in the know
whenever any cry.
Clatter of the wattlebirds
tells a starting of the day
as bee-holding bottlebrush
sends suburbs on their way.
From growing of the tree
olive and the olive branch
are food and thought of how
peace begs a chance.
From morning through the seasons
the reading of the will
is as the juggler takes it,
to catch oranges or spill.
They water both together
the teardrop and the eye
here and now in the know
whenever any cry.
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