Sixes

It's six o'clock, but not for the birds, for them, it's four-play. God says,"Be there, or be square," because He's Lord of the times, not Jehovah of old, knows that slang and jargon, keep the young in the fold. Winter-white in a summer made snowy, sea gulls assemble, "aide memoire" who rules here. They've mastered the moves, but he's the conductor, and I, lady of the lake have a season pass for these Swan Lake show-stoppers, their circles and dives, their "pas de deux's", or sixes, or sevens, that finish in the clouds in a curtain call unfound by the married to ground. God sends His ballet each day where it belongs. Take Heart! He says: My birds are words beyond language, beyond wings, beyond songs.