The Daily Race

The Daily Race I, too ,am a seed Sprouting amongst difficulty Skilled hands gather the harvest Forsaken, with greed Scarves and bonnets Mask sovereignty Fowl of the air gather Early mornings Unarmed To take a familiar course One with self and the creator Rock dove, Silver, black and blue They drift across the sky Circling the clouds Beggars, they prowl city streets Forlorn crumbs On concrete Standing on lamp posts As too, cable cords Despite resistance Gentle hands Spare Stale bread Bird debris A pinch of pride Reclaiming territory Locks of rope and cord intertwined, Braiding , a ritual of all time Broken skin Broken winged Your pain is too hard to comprehend Wooly black cotton interwoven thread My crown and glory Net and web Obsidian claws Grasp white cotton To clothe the beasts and fellow entities Marckincia Jean Free Verse 11/09/21