beyond the prickly clutter...

The Sunday rain on my tin roof, insists that I lay in bed and think.
So I do...
And here is old Amos before me, on the ceiling:
out there in the gumtree hills,
drinking tea from a bush mug, held ironbark hands.
His pale eyes cast to the ridgeline, to back then...

— Tim Mallon (@PatMalo85776814) July 25, 2020

Here is an enigmatic rising above the prickly clutter of social and political climates...
Always Tim implies that it is best to befriend those moments close and lingering...

The constants...
The soul mates...

And it is then that you gather the strength
To wage a stand against the more vicious intrusions in your world...
See them for what they are...

Hollow shadows...
Hollow
Aimless
Variable
Wanderers...

Rise above...

And see other blots as
Passing
Insubstantial shapes

Very very small
Aliens...