One Poem

Reality

The Falls were a trickle,
The Creek but a nickel,
A few pennies left for mercy.

"Have you wondered
If reality is a purchase?" mused Carroll.

"That awakens a somnolent Savior
Beside the road in rags and poverty?" asked Twain.

"Just so." said Carroll.

A Fall day beneath the Dodona Oak,
The Homeridae seated, considered,
Thought long,
And one by one put their palms to the ground,
Not one knuckled and fisted.
Unaminous they were,
Unified as reality.

"Reality it is then!" said Carroll
And a rabbit with a pocket watch ran by...

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