There once was an indolent Turk who was never around to do work. With his makeshift footstool, he'd snore & he'd drool. They called his stool "the Ottoman" and smirk.
The Ottoman [Limerick]
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the bungalow’s round
angles & odd proportions
make fairytale look

i see a horse,
and hear a banjo tune,
but don’t imagine…

once majestic,
tombs of ancient kings
reclaimed by nature

rumpled beauty:
chaotic but bright,
purpose unknown

a stooped farmer,
fingers in the soil,
forgets back pain
the hawk's head-shifts are precise and follow in rapid succession... and then cease it lifts one feather at a time as if sniffing its pits it shifts from talon to talon, and then once more it seems to be settling in, getting comfortable for a long stakeout... and then it's gone, diving off the ledge, disappearing into the city valley

footprints in the sand
diverge, and i wonder
if there’s a story