dew-eyed and streaming golden
from an old black-hearted pot
assam or maybe darjeeling
brewing yar thar brouhaha
on a thousand summer days
high-tea on the foothills
of a cake-stand’s doily sky
of a cake-stand’s doily sky
basket chairs tilted straw hats
and bees that jam
and jazz and jazz and then
zzz and zzz and zzz
while all the afternoon a while
the dandelion clocks
tick tock tick tock
tick tock tick tock
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