…

yet the poet lived

to bore us all again

so

the river found the sea

then became an estuary

rain fell on the desert

like custard on dessert

but

the fire in my heart

was only saint elmo

the bee in your bonnet

was a lost bluebottle

plus

the trees played possum

at the bottom of the garden

the sous chef knew

a recipe for remedy

thus

the cowherd heard

the cows moo music

…