You could
contrive a meandering sonnet,
Broach the
third level of meaning with ease -
Once main
lines are coursing and images breeze.
You were in
it, around, beyond, upon it.
Sceptical of
cities, their noble prizes,
Bush slows
out detail close, and daily talk.
Going home
again was the ideal walk
Across the
veranda of word surprises.
Mosaic is
catholic and sensate,
Words pieced
to make it it-and-a-bit.
Either it
happens for them or it’s nothing.
Old English
remains the source of something.
Middle
English too called the spirit wit.
You asked:
now how many ways do we say mate?
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