bringing back the sun
night is falling
suspended light dancing
in the sultry air
atop the tall white oaks
blackbirds gather noisily
chattering like subdued maniacs
devising something spectacular
in their mind
there is no disk that is the sun
having been stolen by sorcerers
a wildfire left in its wake
spreading horizontally
like firefighters
the blackbirds take flight
extinguishing all thought as their
collective call fades like a waning siren
consumed by an inevitable destruction
that is illusory at best
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
nice.
thank you margaret!