It had to make sense.
Adrift on sea
Glad rags bound in a red, spotted kerchief.
Afloat on dreams
Eyes focused keenly on tomorrow
Today receeded with the sunset
Everything vivid in shades of thrown blue
And burnt orange
Except the water rat.
It had to make sense.
Holes plundered and resized
Waters stormed in gently, smoothly
Glissando. Smoke out the prey!
Another way of life; It beckoned
So the sand rat is sniffing Maidenhair
Snatched from lakes
In retaliation for every slight
Real or imagined.
It had to make sense.
The Exodus, the future
The flying rat migrating eastwards
To the past; dangerously:
Mount sodom and a pillar of salt
Another way of life.
"Moo-Goo-Gai-Pan"
Beckoning
A reckoning is at hand.
