Nothing To Spill..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

we go to the mountain
without trails now

beneath the trees
there are no days and nights

we have seen the orchids
and the ferns

we heard the music from the
birds
and the excitement from all
those rare things

the fairies live there
and the unknown spirits

the old man walks without
a stick
the little boy talks like
a man

we climb uphill and we slide
down the bush
mud and leech we hush and hush
like a slush

the same rule is las vegas
is kept
what we did there stays there
nothing to spill.