Mr Mascellani's Musings

Crazy, Isn't It Crazy?

How the wild wind blows so morosely throughout the fields.
It's as though sorrow is born of that wind.And you stumble
around like a goat without legs-so,really, you'd be crawling,
not stumbling. Hmmmm,you might be stumbling on your
stumps.

'Stumps' reminds me of cricket. A game that I never cared
much for. But each to his own, I guess. And her own, of
course. Of course, Mr Ed.

So, how can we reconcile the wind with the ice-cream
(ice cream?) Who knows? Who really knows?
A rhetorical device or a mistake. Who is to say?

The page has been turned. All the birds have died.
Frog. Still. The wind has stopped. Everything is
still. Still. OOOOOoooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!
Spooky.

Yep. That's enough.