Hour Eleven, Swallowtail Jig


Watching black and white films
of the building of great monuments
and bridges, structures that have
survived twice my lifetime
or more, I marvel at the pace,
the rhythm, energy, and movement
in sync with so many lives,
akin to mass bird or swallowtail
butterfly migrations, folding
and billowing in the sky, kinetic
energy feeding upon itself
and transmitting from one creature
to the next, creating a single beast
with many heads, while I,
I struggle to stay awake and alert
typing at my keyboard alone.

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