Casey Weldon
Distant relations sit in waiting, eyeing the fray in astute attention
Denigrating their young for want of substance while toasting to their fill;
bottom’s up!
If not desire – you, y’all, youse guys – announce
naiveté in all steps forward;
graciously forgiving in your all-knowing published analyses:
left hand(s) holding
magnifying glass, right hand(s) smudged red in discontent…
How lucky one is to feel
present, to mature in blooming ecstasy!
Admired by the
collective witness; pieces of bouquet laid to waste in a
passerby’s pretty petal
plucking
The sun – hanging above soapbox
– in a state of egocentric pining;
woke in its awareness of
absolute necessity:
rebuking others’ flutterings
while savoring the understanding
They’ve said there’s a
fool’s will that keeps the light shining
Or perhaps, an innocence
in the depths of the frequencies a buzzin’
We travel deep – fingernails
extended from wing – scratching into an ethereal sense of purpose;
make-believing coincidence
after each last word has been written
Louder yet, metallic cries
continue to silent the patronage:
Flying, failing; a
traveler seeking only to feel self in a familiar existence
I am grateful for Spring
❤
