A Drunk Drone

Hovers he for long hours, Like a solitary quail Lingering in bowers like a drunk drone Reproaching flowers And Like a weary worm Wriggling with creepers. He whispers to every tree, Every brook, every flea, Like a conjurer Kissing them in glee, Like a loony lover Sitting on his knee, And being stung by a bee, Swearing his act of feeling Hearing and seeing Forms, sounds as the key To invoke Calliope, To write epic Poetry. *7th Place* (Out of ten placements in the following contest; Judged on Aug. 27, 2020) Aug. 21, 2020 Pareidolia Poetry Contest Sponsor: Craig Cornish