Posted by: Ron DuBour | January 7, 2017

Daily missive breaks into the weekend Saturday the 7th of January.~by Peter Forster



Daily missive breaks into the weekend Saturday the 7th of January.

Whistle for me
I can hear it
Rattling the
The old tin roofs
Of the prospectors huts
With the modern twist
Enticing tourists
In their hundreds
To paddle in the river
Ankle deep.
The current pulling
At their feet
Needing constant adjustment
A fine balance
With a view to see
How it all pans out
They risk the bite
Of a brigade of
Flying insects
Out for blood
As pale white skin
Reddens in the midday sun
Barbequed by weather.
Bloated bodies
Sweat excess fat which
Drips from chins
Slides across amble stomachs
And pools in footprints
Leading to the bottle store.
Another slab of twenty four
To wet their whistle
No match for yours
The pitch too high
To hear in the
Ordinary way
By the un-practiced ear
Vibrating the fine bones
Like a tuning fork
With soul.
The heart hits the off beat
And I walk with
The rhythm of a
Soft shoe shuffle
A clandestine
Song and dance man
High on
The simple things
Breathing the good life.

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