Blow and above 
the great cloudline puffs 

digging heels in the volcano crater
little tail wrapped neatly along the coast.

It’s been an age since I’ve seen it done
but there the birds go again

dancing skies like ants to honey 
the Trotsky trot the Marx minuet!

Oh, what I wouldn’t give
to be a motley bird again

to swiftly tango the laughing clouds 
and shadow the sun upon the ground.  


Rozell, 2021.

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