Blue-eyed morning

Blue-eyed morning

You have become a shrill sound in our fluid rumble

You are the enraged, plump dyes of tropical birds

Grinding greys amongst the wheat of blinding light

You peeled back the custodial fingers over our dilated eyes
Hearts, ears, tongues and spines

You delivered us a watered down plate 

Of baffled and thwarted designs, callous hairballs

Blackened grains

Jokes after little jokes

The proverbial storm calms 

And the proverbial leaves awake 

To find you gone amongst the clouds.