Our Flock Are Sheep

Dear wartime popular consensus.
I took a bough and stated: historiographical controversies
Dear pillars and stones;
Dear childhood in a library,
Childlike for a school.

Please excuse my absence and accept my kind
thoughts at this time of sadness for our family.

Four portions in the oven. That is family.
Like the uniform duck: we will all be fathers,
Or watch surreptitiously our friends on the grass.
There are coffees coming, or, 'Please help
Yourself to a soft drink'. Go on.

Dear Lion & Unicorn and mustard sandwich.
Here's making hands in the air (making hands in, the, air).
This summer will go on and on.
It will go on and on and last weekend, it was to go on.
Ice may be harder to come by?
Why just lie and with your hands back let the
Wind blow over you.

Dear Sir, I watched you in the woods gathering stones.
I, watched thoughts, reinvent themselves in bones.
I found my children, eating ankles.
My ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to my home.

On marble floors our flock are sheep.
Indian cottage, where shall we sleep?
A great wind blew across the world.
Come hither, help me with the map.
All of this is good and bad in equal portions.