The sky is falling again, and they are calling
to each other like Armageddon is in their midst.
Moses (he’s the big one) has a doodle-bobber
the size of a headdress and he’s obviously in
charge, and his voice sounds part kitten, part
authoritarian bully and he’s telling them all
that this is the big one, that their cozy covey
needs to get on the move. Now. And the bow
-wow-wow call is the last straw, before they all
abandon both limb and hope, and take to the blue.
Prompted by Poetic Asides. Come play!