Prisoners who steal away may
hide beneath steel bridges.

The mountain scene, so lovely:
have you seen the fox there?

Throughout the night, many
a squire became a knight.

Papers blew around wildly
in a robin egg blue sky.

The parade passed by just
as I left to buy ice cream.

Tons and tons of iron ore
yet no yield of one oar.

Paddle through the strait
or, go straight home?

. . . . .

spb