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.
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