Over… (my own tale)

Over… (my own tale)

searching for the ruby cobbler-
(for I certainly don’t fancy heels)
a whirlwind rises, a dog barks,
a picnic basket quakes,
might I procure a pair of my own
to gather up from here
and take me on home

notes… one of those that I have no idea why it popped into my noggin, but it did, so, here it is, such as it is… sometimes you just let the creek of words flow as it must, a spring, bursting from stored up rain, running from the mountain top, filtered through rock, so clean…