The blue of morning light
as orange Dahlias sway
at the windowsill
Storm Clouds convey their hubris

Followed by a procession of  bolted horses
The pond lappings its edges
Blackbirds are shrieking
Natural prey is the order of the day
The World is arcane

The gusts of wind,
happenstance like dust particles
roaring its way down galleys of rooftops