The sky is dull gray, with rows of v-birds
Stitched on it in round silken embroidery.
Mountains sit there prettily, with a lone tree
That stood at the curve, bending in the sky.

The arguments went on a bit tediously
In a boring persistence by some guests.
Their chairs are now warm with victory
This side of the table as the papers rustle.
Their news emitted in the room to the roof
Returning slowly to the other side of legs.
On their laps are napkins wet with lips.
The arguments wear thin like mouth-spit.

Outside, the tree stood bare and naked.
Frogs argued with the bog interminably.
The tea ceremony has started in our eyes.
The sky is still dull gray with three rows
Of v-birds dotting its embroidered cloth
Their wings stopped flapping long ago.


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