487 and 488

I know what’s in that deep, deep, blue, blue sea.

There is no mystery left there for me.

Except, of course, some fathomless darkness,

but (honestly?) I “fathom” more or less.

But as, out o’er the gunnel, I observe

what men of ages past have, too, observed,

can I not see what they saw there as well?

Can I, too, fear the way their stories tell?

I find I can. There’s tentacles in there,

and beasts bigger than any in the air.

So what if they’re not still eldritch to some?

I can superimpose superstition.

Old mystery I will retain, for now,

until I see a new one o’er my bow.

~~~

Apple Cottage (the pet store) viii:

The parakeets did not follow along.

For Larry’d bit at Barry on his beak,

while Harry tried to sing Holly a song,

and Polly pestered Molly with a shriek,

which made poor Molly scratch at Larry’s wing,

who’d flinched by her when Barry bit him back,

while Holly blithely heard her Harry sing,

and Polly went again on the attack,

so Polly shrieked at Molly one more time,

as she apologized to Larry’s limb,

as Holly sang with Harry, now in rhyme,

and Barry got his own beak back to him.

But not until José had shot a round

was silence in the parakeet cage found.