The Oracle
by Garrison Locke
“The fourth of May
in terms of winter,”
said the caterpillar to the swan,
“is when you sail the wall tomorrow
here to there and back and yon.”
He told her this as if it was clear
what he meant by the nonsense
he spoke into her ear.
“Sure..,” she said, cocking her head.
She flapped her wings and flew away.
Tags: poem
