There was this garrulous old chap
he wore a beige cape with blue dotted lines at the wings of it
he talked a fine tune
but I’d be damned if I could cipher it
he smoked a pipe and the smoke would billow up to his bright blue eyes
as If to make a point of them.

He was a town crier
by which I mean that rather literally
screeching his woes with a guttural wind
leaving a discordant note in his wake
but I loved him besides all that
It’s wasn’t just the gems in his eyes
it’s the way he smiled
and the way he buried me nuts in his garden.