Such lively verbs.
In conversation, they caper with life.
As a team, they tremble with power—
more vibration than linear motion.

But something rumbles on the horizon
when a noun names himself Pharaoh.
The mission grows oily with imperative,
and the vine begins to droop.

What of the message from the coast?
Can it be trusted?
Is love an interruption?
Can we find what doesn’t hide?

We must gather our adverbs with abandon
and a shameless lack of discrimination
lest we grow numb in the company of adjectives—

but wait…is that just another ultimatum?

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