Fleeced
Whether mere geezers, whether well-heeled, we fleet-men feel them keenly, these wet westerly breezes.
They feed sneezes, then wheezes, hence we need fleeces.
We seek them here, we seek them there. Glee! Everywhere, the steeper the better, there be sheep.
We need ewes. We need to meet them. We greet them: ‘We see ewes.’
Seems they herd. They descend. We meet. We see the fees: ‘Three pence per pelt.’ Perfect.
Sheep depleted, we feel replete, knee-deep. Very Zen.
The wet westerly breeze sees egrets wheel.
Eyes see steel. The fleet veers, then men steer, see the edge.
The end.
