In these transition times
wth fog hovering
and cold wintry air
ripping through your flesh
stand straight like a weather wane
to test the texture of times
then slouch like a rumpled scarecrow
seeking vision through the dim light
What’s flocking together
are not birds of a feather
but albatross and sparrow
peacock, and egret flying low in the shadow
craning their necks
against unscripted winds
coursing in the hollow of their bones
A shift in pressure
exhaling from the mouth
of redundant times
unleashed from the fractals
of the Ages
leaking from cargo cults
onto a planet on edge.
Pina Piccolo first version 7 January 2017, revised 18 December 2022