Hey, How’s It Goin?
You would think, no, wait, you wouldn’t, thinking is the complete antithesis of what you would do in this situation my bad please forgive me I completely understand if you never ever speak to me ever again! When did the drums become the forest favorite during fairy season? That snare is driving me batty! Flying like a bat I tell you, flying like a bat. UPside down and into the night blind as the moon behind the sun when the night is young and you are flung into wonderland eating your cabbage. I know, I know, you like the purple but all they had was green. I think the rescue rabbits had just been down the cabbage aisle. It smelt of hopping and scampering. They really do deserve all the purple cabbage with all they do for the Cowardly Chief of Sensible Shoes, no offense to warderly cows. They moo and moo and you can too.
Let’s …
try this again …
Metaphorically, you would think that under diress the clocks would shine their tick tick ticking and smoothly take us all into the future now’s of our greatest selves but it seems they escape under diress to the 7th dimension where no one asks them what time it is. Stupid clocks. Just when you need them, poof, off to some other dimensional definition of time treating your 24hr day like a Mercurial Dawn. If you can’t count on clock to give you time who can you count on? I tried counting on sheep once. They bit me! Number 1 baa’d, Number 2 ran away, and Number 3 turned right around and bit me on the elbow. Or maybe that was Number 4 biting in anticipation. I don’t know, but I’m telling you, you can’t count on anyone especially sheep! Gah!!! That’s what I said alright. Gah! And she said baah! The whole neighborhood was in a kerfuffle over the noise. Yes, they managed to make a kerfuffle and put it over the noise. I don’t know how they did it, but it looked gorgeous, I tell you, gorgeous! Sun glistening across the subtle colors as the wind wafted the kerfuffle into ocean waves of glory. You simply had to be there to appreciate.
I’m oudie rowdy,
hava happy,
love & slugs & mint green hugs, flying ’round the seventeen lugs,
~ Michelle