In the Wind of a Raven

A short poem about leaves falling in harder times

I
am leaning
over the edge
of something
panting me
it's like a sheer cut, falling
into the distorted mix, I dream around
Many hours of raging time own the sea here
There are half days with red skies, center-folding destiny
all of the nights are in plastic worlds, every monkey with a bamboo
I can hear the cuckoo with the summer fire bolts, lightning sticks
A sharp storm plows into hard times when the trees are brittle.