sleep and dance

the Alpaca guard
is lying down

alone
aloof
on his hilltop

he spits a stream
of cudded juice
if Llama can
Alpaca will

down the slope
the blue eyed jets
are eye to eye
and beaks touch

they are raven-walking
back and forth
in a sway
of black satin
sheen

a carnevale of colour
noir

on barren slopes
sheep huddle in a mob
beneath the shade
of a single tree
under the blazing sun
and gaze
in wonder

the corvid tango
is a trance
an intensity
unblinking

stylized struts
reflect sunlight
in the deep
and lustrous
shades of shining night

an emu drones its jaw harp
another booms
in rhythm

the third bird
swallows its amazement
at the Latin steps

raising dust above
the undulating horde
of birds
each holding tickets
for the dance floor

above
the Alpaca guard
on his small
tonsured tor
is lying down

eyes closed
he chews his cud
and ignores the click
of claws
and the rising cloud
of earthen powders
that surrounds him
staining his white
to vaguely ochre

his pretty eyes
so tightly closed
he chews and dreams
the wild
Alpaca dreams
of the Andes

Alpaca dreams
of heroes
standing tall
with Llamas


© Frank Prem, 2017

March 2017 Poem #6: the pursuit

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5 thoughts on “sleep and dance

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