Less clomp, more romp

  

  Thorny and I awoke today

  to the frivolous bright-

  ness of a cheeky gluteal

  moon, splashing past the

  unguarded clerestory, of

  our exactly axial dwell-

  ing. There was no sense,

  in repressing his retort

  on this occasion; an Eng-

  lish Cocker's synapse is

  irreversible, on the wis-

  dom of going out to run.

          

I have never believed that it makes much sense, objecting to a pretty moon of youthful consti-tution, and if I were a superstitious man I would have to credit the stars with arranging, for our quiet countryside, a mer-rily urbane tuck in their resolute trajectory. But now of course, you were about to say, the sky is on its way to California.