Sometimes I Cirlcle

Sometimes I circle in the wind, a dove seeking safe ground;
sometimes I circle above the breeze, a barn owl on the prowl.
My world is not always the world I sought, woke to, planned,
but a circus of expectations, full of lonely monkey sounds:
guttural screeches, tree-top screams, always wary of elfin growls:
an end to practiced sprints, ups, downs and joys of this world:
it is an adventure of mornings preparing for some final stand.