Phoebe stirred her porridge pot,
Smiling near the chickadee's song.
She and Esther kissed last night
A most pleasant of all good nights
With scent of chamomile on their lips,
Collected from Esther's garden.
Phoebe loved women and men of the earth,
Its dung, and fiddleheads cropped in the spring
When she cleaves oak trees with shirtless men
For winter and smoke unto the heavens.
She liked to say "unto the heavens,"
Did not know why, nor did Phoebe care,
For Esther comes again tonight
To "giggle like girls." Who knows why?
Smiling the same are Phoebe and Esther
Who comes again for tea tonight.
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