Puddles of rain form gelatin-like amoebas on a shiny black rail.
Waiting to be windswept and float off to another landing place.

Unmoved by vociferous bluejays, hypersensitive and affected by mounds of coffee and glucose; their rushing with urgent energy to be heard and to speak truths unfounded and non-sensical.

All still beyond a longing for certainty; quiet in the flow of illusion that roils incessantly yet uncontrolled and preordained.

Tears of joy to soothe a parched sphere; and we begin again…