#498 (a swallow, searching Saturday)

delusional

and full of hubris

as if I could choose

what to write about,

searching for a feather

instead I’m being pummeled

by leaden curtains,

the concrete suffocating

my swallow smiles

while I am trotting along

forgotten paths

of this strange town,

it must be home

but why do I

feel the need

to wake up again?

and then I found it

sailing down from

the rooftops, greyish,

soft, a faint plume

leading my way

to the holy grail or

at least its substitute

for a lack of temporal

vortexes  I grabbed

an orange cup filled

with a fine blend

just a little sour

just a little white

to brighten up,

swarming wasps

safeguarding the

local’s treasures

through plenty

of  compund

eyes.

 

© Matthias Grupe, 11th August 2018

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