It changes from a pedigree to a troll.
Never is it about a walk in the woods on a cloudy day.
Never is it lessons from leaving a cake out in the rain.
Creations in the mind…often weary.
Word pies for the leery.
Leaving the creator with no true sense of destiny.
The rations for the irrational…never a luxury.
I assume there are worse things than rolling words up hill and letting them tumble.
Letting them go.
Silly idle hands for hyperactive thoughts…crashing into trees down below.
But I am just a laborer and pushing random words uphill…
And, that is all I’ll ever know.