LOVE ON A HIGH WIRE

It is impossible as head-nodders to learn the true subject of our gossip.

But chatter we do,
nod we do,
smile and frown and clap we do…

like starlings at early dawn,
we protest, quarrel and yawn.

We flap, we rustle, we cling together and rise afeather…
seeking the leader
whose silent tether

greets the grey of gloomy,
now gone.

As sundown teases, murmeration ceases;  with one last rustle, we rhyme with the rhythm of billowing blather,
our restlessness astir
as darkness overcomes.

Tomorrow we rise a-more
and like dawnings come before…

we’ll dismount from our roosts, our heads awaggle,we’ll gossip and gaggle; we’ll harp – we will haggle

And as the bloated carcasses of our forgotten comrades add nourishment to the earth, one or two will ask “do you remember whats-his-name?”.

“Oh yes” we reply, “he had so many strange, new ideas”.

And with heads abob we bestow our final, limited approval in measured doses…

and our world nods approval to the brief observance of continuity,
forgetting yet
another
Love Story.

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