shampoo bottle promises

Washing my hair,

I bellow like a mastodon,

Might have done,

And read

The promises written on my shampoo bottle

“Win Epic Trips And Thousands Of Prizes!”

It alleges.

I don’t really believe these pledges

But recycle the bottle,

And use them to make dreams,

To get me through thirty minutes or so,

Then I recycle the dreams too,

And dream of something else instead.

A great bustard

Unflustered,

A great bustard

Strides with its flock

Along a fold in the land of

The high Iberian plains.

The flock walks with all the dignity of hidalgos,

Immaculately plumed in

Beige, russet, black, white and grey;

As befits the heaviest flighted bird

In the world.

The flock proceeds with long-legged strides,

Each one in the slow procession

Will pause, from time to time,

To peck grains or insects from the ground;

Whilst others look around

And if a human comes too close,

Or if the flock so decides;

They may all take flight,

Flashing bright white underwings

Across the wide sky

To another fold in the plains,

To begin the procession again.