would choose / chews wood
¶ 1
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On a glorious mid-summer’s day
when the solar-source commands us to
do-nothing-but-sit-out-and-read
and even gets us to
skip-the-tv-grunt-grunt-baseline-chaseline-at-SW19;
¶ 2
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instead, I watch the dogged determination
of the crinkly, wrinkly-nosed pup entitled Archie
as he gnaws animatedly on numerous sticks
a demented shredding machine, but with no baler!
¶ 3
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I switch back to the Sunday paper –
ignoring the front pages, which are covered
in choice Christening snaps, of Archie’s privileged namesake;
¶ 4
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no, my interest is purely in the Sports Section
(too soon for any significant Tour de France news)
so it’s the footy feature that fascinates:
Lamps set to shine again at the Bridge
Pogba stirring
disappointment of 4th place for the Lionesses
and just general transfer gossip, like….
Who will switch to whom?
Who will end up with splinters on a new bench?
Who will put in wooden performances? Perhaps at Forest?
Who will be going of their own volition?
Who will be going as a makeweight?
Who’s next, for Pep to make great?
All sizzling tittle-tattle, on a sizzling day
¶ 5
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the sun continues to perform its searing miracle
the incessant rays shutter-down the eyelids….
Archie continues to chew / coo (take your pic) (sic)
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