The past, the future, and the invisible danced
Like happy angels on the ranked windshields
Of the parked trucks and cars. Cloud-to-cloud
Lightning brightly underlined the darkening
Of the lowering afternoon sky. “Time to die,”
Said one particularly batty angel to a demon
Gasping next to him. But the rest pranced,
Content to exchange sky for glass and steel,
For a change. Change keeps things happening,
Living or barely moving, angels, birds, ghosts,
Lightning in the mountains or the mountains,
Dying or coming to life. “At last! I am alive!”
Gasped another angel, splat. The invisible,
The future, and the past. Splish, splash, splat.
No comments:
Post a Comment