My Fruit Bears Mumbles

My fruit bears mumbles

And this bear’s repeating
of it’s hibernation scheme
is getting a little weary.
And this year’s depleting
days have got a lot of hours to hide.
Dearly depleted,
We are gathered here to hide.

My fruit is ripe for cages.

The sliding scales of justice
Are great for weighing slippery fish
And the slide rule of law
for meting out penmanship,
and wringing ink from the Constitution.
(One wring to rue the day we wrote it.)
Wriggling fish: demote it when
it’s only good to wrap you.

My Freud is Jung at heart.

And my archetypewriter lacks a return
For the Hero’s Journey, Boston, Styx, and Kinks
Are all on tape and not returning
And the horse that rues the way you rode it
Lives to frighten other days
It loves to lighten other days
And the horse you rode in on.