Paper Bark Writer

While my Love’s away engaged in matrilineal duties 

of most agreeable kind, I’m blessed with a peace-of-

mind expressed best as - ‘this is a boy’s day off” 

Already eaten all the Jatz biscuits and filled th’ main 

tank in case of a weather change - not that it’s likely; 

but y’ never know, n’ we’re playing catch-up games 

With a host of ‘blokey’ things - like where masculine 

epithets get stashed by th’ Boss back in charge of a 

not quite anarchy, and yet, possibly getting there, to 

The chagrin of a chap who’d never doubted he’s the 

clandestine leader of the not-quite angel’s pack, if it 

has any virtual relevance out here in the open air of 

Countryside too far removed from ‘connubial reality’ 

to be judged by fence-peering, colonic-view peers in 

adjusting their expectations of what is normalcy 

So we pop another beer from th’ fridge where a few 

froze unexpectedly - it is summer, either that needs 

adjusting to - or the fridge has it’s own agenda for 

The newly declared Paper Bark Writer … 

© 8 December 2015, I. D. Carswell