…
The Watcher and Deep Thinker
Sat in a corner smoking a joint,
Playing cards. Each with diamonds
In their pockets, and hearts in their
Hands. They chuckled about
Everything and nothing. Keeping a
Straight face was hard. Their excellent
Minds were completely unmoored.
Just kidding.
The Watcher stood on a bed of
Bones in an abandoned eagle’s
Nest atop the highest tree. His gaze
Followed compass points precisely.
The Deep Thinker was kneeling in an
Ancient well, miles below the surface.
Knees on bedrock, notebook in one
Hand, his father’s penlight in the other.
The Watcher looked up and down and
All around. Missing almost nothing.
The Deep Thinker read fine lines in the
Fieldstone walls that surrounded him.
The Muse? She was swinging on a
Porch swing watching the sun go down
Drinking a cold beer, watching the moon
Come up. Writing it down. Smiling.
Me? I was just feeding the Muse.
…
Dancing on Frozen Beaver Ponds 
loved ‘their excellent minds were completely unmoored’; so imaginative; so different ; and then that kick-ass ending, ‘Me? I was just feeding the Muse’
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is about as close as I come to automatic writing. I took the dog for a walk and more or less the whole thing just unfolded. Now, to go and roast some sweet potatoes to put in the chilli I’m making. Have a great evening John… or maybe morning/day where you are..
LikeLiked by 1 person
morning here; enjoy the food; the poem was great fu, partly because it was ‘unmoored’ 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wonderful! Love the last stanza about the muse. And the last line is fantastic.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good morning… and thanks very much Bob!
LikeLiked by 1 person