in perilous times
we join the otherworld,
the lives lived outside
our bubble

so who do we thank for this?
who’s driving this bus?
who’s at the helm?
who masters the joystick?

we man our posts,
soothe ourselves

must come to terms

I saw a cormorant, wings spread
drying herself in the wind after lunch
oblivious to the dilemma of our recklessness
but snared nevertheless in its reach

but time itself is oblivious,
and space.


Jim Culleny