Windborne madness scattering
The woodpile balanced on horehound
Deletes the map returning hummingbirds
Would have followed.
Contagious though insanity may
Those with the emerald amulet are
Than common thigh-riding skyhawks.
Tentative steps of returning years
Repot spinach and coleus.
Air-rooted green chilies
Escape plodding reality-censors.
The years do not demand coherence,
To whom does the vinegar wind belong?
Surfeit of time, too thick,
Is the mad-virus matrix.
Yet it is not the hummingbirds
Nor even you nor I
That generates rain of thimbles.
Frog mountain dances the scattered
To rest 'round the emerald heart
of the whirlwind.