robin_hill_summer cr0wl on the very top of the massive dead walnut tree in the goat yard was a trio of ravens, just as dawn came creeping up, dragging the black dress of night behind her. they preened their feathers amongst the bare branches and seemed to converse in the silence of what was left of anyone's sleep. what to think of this day is their topic. this midsummer to late saturday a golden day of honey and lemon water of riesling of relaxing amongst the branches of a green tree of youth innocence immersion if i was a bird, i would be up there with them talking about laughter and children with painted faces. my art displayed for a friendly audience. i am their clown. they are my filled bleachers. 100828 what's it to you? who go blather from