When we circle the clouds and here we are, safe
Or open one eye after another onto a new day
The sky, a door, a season, a safe
And the intentional way we put our palms to the table
Next, participating and/or breaking bread and/or outright celebration
We’re cycling through all the times of day, here
We’re doing our best with what we’ve been dealt, here
We’re caring for the elderly around the clock, here
We’re making potatoes and making it, both
Don’t bother me with this static, it’s raining
I’m a up to my ears, but will it ever be enough?
What will we be left holding whenh the bell rings?
And so the calls for a little bit softer now
As the real begets the real-real at the end of all things
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