Chicken in the Straw

It leaves things up to the imagination. But the imagination is sorted and sullen. So then one? or two? A matter in the day but no matter in kind. It'll grow. Not on the fence like in the field, but it'll grow.

The spelling has changed. The shrubbery has expanded but the locks are all the same. Returned to normal. Not telling. Not keeping. Devoid of any power.

But out of the sun, cool and incessant. Ready to take on the day.

No. 

No.     Still.     Still and sweet.

Sweet without. And yet sweet still. Not be cause but be spite. A full moon on the table and darkness up above. Sounds given. Slowing. Stilling. Different and the same.

Staring blankly and she's there; together looking out into sky.