Field Play Poem by Johnny Psalm

It could be a bond of instinct
once in a year, uniting us
from hamlet heart, nook
and crannies on same field.

They would ignore nine and more
of our fleabitten clothes patches and bogholes.
Their tents is strictly by permission.
To identify your status would be better

Though no status sentimental view
for the time being, perhaps two days.
Once in a while when i think
of christmas hide and seek notion

of toddlers in liberty
and adult crazy sentimental status
I would add miles to my solitary walk
before and after christmas

to pitch my tent farther distant
and seek my peers elsewhere.