In this place, even birds are different.
They seem to hobble, rather than hop.
Although majesty cannot be measured
I cannot help but think of them as old dukes
ruffling their cuffs of feathers, their coats of
black dusty velvet, croaking of times past
when they could have been royalty.
In this place, even spiders are different.
They have received ninja training.
Open your window, my friend, you’ll see
how fast they can link wall to window,
window to tree, tree to washing line,
washing line to clothes. They cling to you
as you dress, undress and crawl into bed.
In this place, even the weather is different.
At first you would think that mizzle
replaces raining, mist, fog, and storms.
Then in just under an hour
the equivalent of a season’s weather-load
unfolds, envelops you with sun, wind, heat and cold.
Confusing you, and itself, then changes its mind, again.
In this place, the University of Endless Acronyms,
nothing is the same, and yet…
In this place I’ll create another story.
Different, yes, but still my own.
(The first product of the first CWS workshop)