We observed him walking
his voice did not quaver
enough to break us near.
The gaze of us is slight
and peripheral to his glasses.
The syllable chant of oral
word work is the initial
attraction. We leave rods and
staffs to find theatrical sounds.
He is not relevant to the muse
we serve. Her hounds do not
let us rest along the
Steep, larched roadway.
Postscripted from his prayer
of specialized rationalization,
and his instinct for preventing
the colony collapse of our bees.
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