FREEDOM OF / FREEDOM TO
A spiky purple ridge is all that’s left
of yesterday. Let’s celebrate tomorrow
with all the ease of sheep discussing
dinner: that bit’s a wolfless browse, watch for thorns
in the wild rose, don’t collies come to drive us
from dessert as if denying us was theirs.
Never mind, the hills are blanketed with breakfast.
Some of us will eat it. Some of us won’t.