A Herding Over the Cockpit
By Andrene Bonner

Must tend the goats o’er pastoral  
To limericks that humor,
Drowning miserable screams;

Screams senses that echo such  
Racing thoughts of oppressive
Nation peoples big and small.

Small as the wicked worms
That devastate the scallions
Waste the lemons and the mint;

Mint so soothing on nights
When calls of lowland jungle frogs  
Own the very arrival of the muse.

Muse besieged from being heard
Dictates this sentimental mise en page
Tis reckless to pen this stifled susurrus.

Must tend the goats o’er pastoral  
With limericks and blank verses
Verses of this heroic derring-do;
DoDo Darling; I still love you.