When the sun falls
And the shadows unfurl
Behind rusting bars
The heartbeats of home lie in snippets of dim blue pulsing.
Across their peeling adobe,
The wind just trots,
But behind them,
A blue screen blares:
“The world
Plunders further
To rot.”
When sunlight returns,
From the adobe,
These tiny creatures emerge.
Stretching out like the hues,
And rising from every corner,
They advance outward
In brilliant waves, warbling.
Eyes glowing with sky,
Frolicking like the wind,
Their visions have songs to sing, too
Of forecasts all of their own.
J.T.
Wonderful imagery…