Didn’t I meet you
at another dance,
when hungry
mouths polka’d
and tango’d,
devouring
photosynthesis
and nature’s
other prancings.
Laying waste
cutwork lace
in intricate
entwinements,
we ravenous
artisans
share our cottage
garden industry.
We jig, in sawing
harmony,
in terpsichorean
topiary,
unweaving
filigree -
we break-dance
to oblivion.
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