The Fourth of Yesterday

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 from

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

And tiny threads arrived with the

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