From the bleachers our friends could see us walking the high wires; switching lines of finer foreign design.
We tempted new destinations, sweet stepping to victory.
Was it the shake in the line that pushed our souls into a perilous pole dance?
Or was it just a false offering?
Other wire walkers found our shadows and wondered how anyone could have prepared for such a fall.
We were flocked in white feathers
unsure of where anything was
Coming and going.
Only that the image was covered by thick wood and a hungry noise was flickering about.
Our shakes in the shadows,
were bound.
As far as the length of an eye, the time bird flew off into sky.
Tiny threads arrived with th sunrise.
I looked down.
We still had the ground,
A parable.
The bleachers rumbled
with shouts resounding and familiar.
© 04-Sep-2011-Sonja J Johnston
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