The pigs are flying; the pears
Hang ripe on the willow trees.
The crawfish whistles
From the mountaintop,
And the hens all floss their teeth.
Goldfish swim through the bamboo
Blossoms where the dark ships sail
The forest. Black crows practice
Backstrokes, and logs hunt for frogs
As roses hunt for florists.
Clockwise philosophers play
Sundial games with garden gnomes,
And the stars are out all day.
Now I’m done composing poems.