OLD GROWTH OVERDRIVE

My wings drink Aire tea-
As my Err steeps-
In downdrafts; My flight-
Defeats.

Old Growth in Overdrive…
My counsel now, as I praise The Sun
With my Remarkable sadness.
Slumped over gorgeous tombs
And new riots of Truth!

The way I slink now, in the Interim
Of my disturbed Peace…
Looks exactly how You Deal
With what I’m Saying-

Now.