Definitive Version

Weather vanes pointing in all directions
you.  An armistice in practice flies
in to the real thing. Even the parsimonious
are overjoyed and hand out a quail under
each arm. Olives exonerated a moment later
(always momentary) and an aviary wakes up
and blooms in a cherry tree.
You stand on the first bucket
and shout the colloquial name for water.
I call you my hemlock, my waterfowl
After that you were mine.