Jupiter Falling
Stood here, alone, at the very edge, as quiet
Morning breaks;
Rumblings from a distant train, low overhead
A Peewit flies:-
Those strange, mewing calls; it sounds as if the
Whole fate
Of a diminished race should hang upon some
Shrill utterance of a wandering bird's cry.
And heard in that plaintive cry? All the vast,
Widening breadth found only in a far out solitude.
An unsettling, fragile stillness this. Just then,
Above the flattened, grey dawn, Jupiter stalling --
But grasped, to be tumbled in a mad, rushing,
Sudden downward swoop
Of scooped up air! Earth eagerly tilting to
Purposefully confuse
When urging about disaster -- the fractured horizon
Partly disintegrating whilst partly reforming...
But that masterful
Bird, buoyed, secured within his dizzying loop;
Where from, arrogant Jupiter, still garbed yet
In faded glory...now falling, falling, falling.
Copyright © John Fleming | Year Posted 2020
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