yrts

lets all go to devon and live in a yrt.
live in a yrt
live in a yrt
we'll make our own yogurt from the cultures in our dreadlocks.
the sun will rise on our travelling van,
and we'll throw back the blankets
and muss the kittens' hair.

we'll cook up giant pots of soya porridge
to bring to the beach
and eat with sticky spoons
while the wife practices her poi.

and now, more about the yrt.
our yrt will have a breezy porch,
and cupboards for storing incense.
there will be potluck dinners on our mud floor.
gathered on hay bales, we'll sup on vegan stew
and compare notes on woodchopping.

winter is coming to our yrt.
we must decorate it with tinsel
to celebrate the dawning of the pagan prince's birthday.
on that night we will rock the yrt,
lighting it as a cruise ship, in the Forest of deepest Protest.

the yrt will travel on his back to protests.
lie quietly against a tree while we rally against the G8 nations.
the yrt will be fairtrade and animal friendly.
it will not be doused in whale blubber to ward off the chills.

we will sport dozens of cardigans to keep us cozy.
cardigans mat has crotcheted furiously, bleeding fingers
twiddling at lightning speed, hurrying, hurrying, to churn
out the hundreds of sweaters we will need for the winter nights.

with scarves up to our chins, we will give birth in the yrt.