Priscilla of Titillating Courage

Priscilla of Titillating Courage With smidgens of cereal we may choose to grind traces from Grains of life truth sadness vagaries and the circle of being Separate the wheat from the chaff only to find out we are Looking at rye and need to indulge a wry smile now and then At times the gristmill is too small and the task overwhelming Clumps of ingredients cluster and clot the grinder of purpose Yet when life gives us corn it rots or we make fine dust of flour A treasure trove of sediment once the millers are up to the task A spark of suspicion when mould has crept into salubrious silos A tad of fallow sorrow borrowed from burrows and furrows To complete what is one and feeds us from shadows of doubt While it may seem we are chiselling fragments bit by slow bit Priscilla the enlightened woman of wondrous marvel holds wisdom But knowledge without action is futile and Yin seeks a complement Yang When she meets Theo her courageous tiller soulmate and lover in waiting Ambiguous scintillae conjoin embrace and rejoice at lips fingers and hips They now harvest together in the nude of serene honesty are clothed in Veils of crushing uncertainty much less or at least their mill moves together They plant their seeds together water indulge in sensual acquaintance till Their field arouse titillation and bake and break bread in passionate nibbles