flim flam man

the bees are gone carrying the gardens cargo

i feel something divine in stillness almost unattainable

form melts then into implication

that moment you are far flung and flying

over the meadows and forests and cities

where freshwater streams run through banks of white sand

children on bicycles galloping by

giddy as they zoom past plaza and hillock

whirled as theyre hurled down whorls of early traffic

gasping in the crispness of altitudes dark

the suffocating twist in nest of a mudlark

i lock on to a point in the fallen down sky

as a million points of eagles go screaming by

still alive