If only I could find work
as free from uncertainty
as the task on Brueghel's folks
I would gladly sweat
for my boss, hay.
I would laze upon
my bed of hay.
Take a scythe to the ankles
of my enemy, hay.
Share a pear over hay.
Find a wife and roll in the hay.
March like an unworried
ant in a map of hay
with a colleague giving the report:
there is more hay, over
there, past all the hay
you see, and when
it's gone, wait
and there will come more.
Yea, only when we
are gone will hay not
be, and even then
it will still be
dead grass.
-- Johnny Chinnici
