seven kettles

concocting from night’s embers
conjuring a counterspell
to segregate some chambers
from the all pervasive smell

seven kettles of tea
brew for all of thee
as the elder fowl
within the garden dost prowl

then as the others
serve assorted teas
the elder
roasts some broccolis

a dozen veggies
endure the wok
and spices fly
amongst the flock

the language of the night
hath got thee in this plight
a slew of poems brilliant
of cow and gull resilient

but now to break thy fast
with what baked on morrow last
or the greener fare anew
whichever do you choose

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About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
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