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There’s a small tie-in to something of Esme’s too, here – Scare-less Crowing

Actually. . . I’ve decided to go wild and carry it over the fence to rest here a span . . .*bows, coughs and begins to recite. . . *

Scare-less Crowing

Once, under a time,
A figure was spied in the back meadows
Just over there.
A chaotic irregular thing.
It had eyes of glinting sea glass buttons,
A wayward curve to the parsnip nose;
The pale stretched torso stuffed, choked,
With a strange waxy straw.
Every tooth a tarnished, sharpened, penny dreadful.

Two mouldering earrings were pinned into approximate place.
One foot lingered in a bucket,
The other sat wedged within a 1960’s go-go boot.
Peeling patient patent.
A donkey jacketed ass.
The fancy flair of a foolish debonair.

Long loose Lycra clad legs drifted back and forth,
(The fourth and fifth to the third)
In a mockery of sentient movement.
Below the magnificent ruined brim of a rambunctious top hat,
A head sits draped in a flowing curled cascade;
The rusting scarlet of a faded foil party-wig
Flailing it’s singular, elderly neon strands in the wind.
All dressed up with no air to blow.

An oddity,….even in its field.

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