They laugh and prod these two lazy bums
Working (yeah right) in their respective worlds
The winter sun unusually hot
Visions of frosts blocked by pane
Wandering their homes
From meditative to contemplative to vegetative
And over again
Our monks doth doff of their cloth
Naked masters over their world
Privacies shared through reflective prayer
Sun worships, moon celebrants
Curled cats from room to room
And across the wires
I know what you are wearing
And good on you for your proud bearing
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