From one place to another
we move like caribou
huddled like the emperors of old
egg rests on their mottled feet
they gather as a circuit board for heat
when the sun and warmth are gone
so leave the birds in manic throngs
when gone the moss it grows
when seasons change
and melt the frost
blind children of the world are lost
in a world not seen yet heard
the mating calls of mockingbirds
nothing to see but mirrored glass
The rain clouds up above have passed
Their first view of the world
A world of water and of sand
Their fledgling waters meet the sand
And natures struggle starts again
In the spring the flowers bring
sparrows from their porch to sing
Alone are all the gulls that fly
Into the upturned bowl the sky
And underneath them hand in hand
the broken mechanism man
Hera’s necklace is the stars
to which we look through narrow bars
of our own creation made
placed before the dying man
was his last masquerade
the main performers night and day
the cycles of the sun once spun
is autumn by September done
and multicolored leaves are flung
against the speckled grass of green
the leaves are scattered in the breeze
fear keeps the hermit locked away
so bleak that no one could assuage
us to forget our yesterdays
the wounded bird stays in its cage
like a mockingbird that cannot fly
just like a one winged butterfly
that’s how the desperate circle dies
brandon the writer | author & staff writer for sir swag 