stopped mid-roll in fields
bales lay damp with the rain fall
smell of heat and endless days
Bravo another iballrint salvo of wit. Clint never disappoints, does he? Madeupness ? Delightful! And thank you for the grand munificence with which you allow a poetry month for its adherents (of the traditional variety, of course; not the mutilated prose that passes for poetry nowadays). In the battle of wits, impunity is its own victory. It is not a pursuit for the faint of heart, slow of wit, or dull of tongue. The only loopholes Clint affords are the ones that somehow coil themselves around the neck of your rhetoric and logic. Naturally, however, this skill of his needs constant practice to stay in form; and I am happy to provide so small a service to so great a man and friend. It has the happy effect of spicing up the mundane side of our otherwise sensational existences. As Clint says, No friendship can survive without a kind and wise dose of periodic fiction. He merely does not relish the doses of non-fiction I attempt to administer, as they tend to bring out the quality of which a famous man once remarked: That is the sort of pedantry up with which I will not put. Case in point After all, Teal knows that I’m the one perpetually picked on. Gross misrepresentation: according to my perception of veracity, the case is one of reciprocity. Friendly fire, you might say.Both sides having come away satisfactorily triumphant, I will withdraw from the field for a time so as not to fatigue my friendly antagonist. Birthdays, you know. They do have a tendency of tiring and being tiresome. Rest well, peerless knight, and keep your lance in readiness for the next encounter.
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