As the Times Transit




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