Monday Poem

Speed and Trouble

……………… —my head spins
suddenly it’s Saturday again

wind whistles through hours
days are bullet trains

yet in this garden
long as the space of a light year
crows drop in to listen for the bristle
of worms making way below
through a sea dark as biker leathers
black as predator feathers

I love these crows
……………………… —being so

they strut with natural equanimity
unlike cocksure CEOs who strut
but with a limp of sociopathy

meanwhile, two blood red cardinals
perch upon a limb outside our room
much nearer god then those of
the red-habit class

our fat cat’s
laser gaze nails them, though she looms
impotent behind the slider glass

—in this leisure garden bubble
these crows and I know zip
of speed and trouble

by Jim Culleny

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