Young crows appear invalid, even mangy,
Strutting their stuff into the street,
Just like a couple of cowpokes, rangy
With stilted steps, as they gawk for tidbits to eat.
Around the corner on a slab of concrete lies
A form epitomizing night
Until it unfolds itself gazing with a guise
That shows surprising poise and light.
But it is all a ruse arousing only passing
Attendance from pedestrian
Neighbors whose ignorant ways
Miss the details of what is too familiar in
The furniture of their perambulant daze.
Yet these set pieces failed escape of glassing,
Although contorted by the lens of borrowed stays.
KLK
8/22/20
No comments:
Post a Comment