Turkey trots to water
GG
As I wait,
Jim says to me
Seven horses seem
To be on the mark.
The first horse, hate;
The second, me.
The third, a daydream
Of encroaching dark.
The fourth is late
Or cannot be;
The fifth’s abaft the beam.
The sixth: a stark
Vision of fate.
And now, with the seventh, we
Have them all, a thundering stream
From a turgid roiling sky. Hark!
RR
The world wonders
Many Worlds Theory 