How could it end in any other way?
Pastels above and tangled grass about our feet,
Tangential streaks of iridescent grey,
Highrise conjectures on invention’s scope, and wheat
Accumulating, hushed,
By B-roads where a rushed
Commuter hurtles to another day.
Remote, flamingo-gawky, cranes release
Piratic hooks like pensive anglers at a river,
Expecting, wordless, some disrupted peace
To sanction free-for-all: their moment to deliver
Mechanic justice. Who
Could function as they do?
Who grips the nettle, grasps the golden fleece?
Time past lies like a hogshead on a tray.
Fresh salmon surge upstream. Downstream young lions leap.
Time’s yes-man has relinquished yesterday.
All doubts disintegrate. Enthusiasms seep
And gather. Where they flow,
Life flourishes. Trees grow.
How could it end in any other way?