donning his old boots —
a gentle drift
from brown to green /norman

hearing the cuckoo
we look to the pine /sheila

fifty watts per channel
and a kick
to the subsonics /john

garlanding their mallet
for strip croquet /norman

solstice goldfish
circle the world
beneath a skim of ice /sheila

a geyser bursting
through its muddy crust /norman

save me, enslave me
those eyes of fire
devouring all /john

vanilla and salt
her tongue to his skin /sheila

Ganesha's rat
scurries off to chat
with minor mortals /norman

a cockle picker
washed up in the bay /john

sickle moon
and bonfire guy
return each other's smile /sheila

the silver river flows
from branch to branch /john