4:00 PM, A Day In December

Afternoon under a diluted sun,
of clumped banks, lowered clouds,
a remnant bird nest smattered
unstable. A period tatters between
the ongoing fresh sentences written
as barren branches held by the sky.

Meander then with the shades of gray,
the tinged over surface of faint light,
the way things remain actual by space
unheld. Such is also the method of
invisible wind carrying on as oblique
pressure facilitating the fluid avarice

of ruthless change. What was once
true, requires to be deluded, and
an instep comes with imagination,
where your liver of pity is kneaded
between the vice grip of warm hands.
If adequately paced-- what can reach

the ends of miscalculated horizons.
You know a destination is achieved
when rupture exceeds the low quake
of the sonic, sending it all directionless
with divided equality, where humorous
solutions weigh busy in other places.