okay now. I’m about to go pick up 8 bags of pigeon poo from a carpenter who was working at my house and my neighbor’s house for the past month.
this pigeon poo is for the Scooby-Doo garden, our beautiful sacred garden in my Cherokee teacher’s backyard where a number of us worked all afternoon yesterday harvesting basil, peppers, beautiful red peppers, rosemary, dried beans, etc.
And like, I really don’t have time today to go pick up Pigeon Poo… but this carpenter is home and wants the bags cleared off his property and he’s a nice guy and plus, he’s willing to barter and — well, we have some ambitious plans with our group – beyond our sacred garden in the backyard of this teacher. And this carpenter, Warren, is a very nice guy and is quite handy with repairing anything and everything, and well — we’re planning to create an EcoVillage that will be an educational center about sustainability, green job building skills, and myriad ways to find inner peace… to be modeled after the Cherokee Peace Villages that dotted the eastern seaboard for thousands of years until settlers arrived and well. things changed… as we know. Gonna call it – HOPE PEACE VILLAGE. rather ambitious. yes.
… and well… bartering makes a lot of sense with a man of Warren’s abilities..
So, I’m dropping all my other to- do’s that are scheduled for this lovely Sunday morning and heading to pick up Pigeon Poo. It’s better than picking up human poo. this is true.
a little poem to eke out and then I’ve got to run:
I love pigeon poo.
I do, I do.
is it as good as the poo from those who moo?
or from those who have used the loo?
what about those related to casper who say ‘boo!’ ?
is there a clue?
all I know is that I just need to ‘flew’