poet russ cavanagh

jenni the weepy sheep would cry herself to sleep because she lived up a hill where her side was too steep every day she would hope for a somewhat gentler slope as all her poorly knees really couldn't cope  the strain was quite enough to make her huff and puff and after several months she really felt quite rough  then one day from afar came the farmer in his car he shouted, "come now jenni, time for the abattoir."     CC BY-ND 4.0 - Russell Cavanagh

another early morning my unease lifts  slow wisps of thought across unlit walls mask dark cities unfinished repairing to another dawn as a lone car hisses past outside in prelude to the coming opera itself a minor variation on a set theme where vanity vies for attention with ego ...fried or boiled ...or coddled ...or poached good morning     CC BY-ND 4.0 - Russell Cavanagh