Friday, April 20, 2007

My 41st encounter with the peacock

You read so much
Said the peacock to me
It's not such a filthy vice
As you make it out to be
I retorted

I prefer action
For its eloquence
Even if in your eyes I'm ignorant
I'm actually much more learned than you

Saying so he strutted off in a huff

Next day
I watched the peacock
Mimic the rise and fall of waves
Matching its rhythm
The peacock stood still
No movement whatsoever

That was the day
The sea
Realised the relative unimportance
Of low tides, high tides

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