A flock of birds swoops and circles
In front of the setting sun
Bringing another day to an end,
And even, as in this case, another year.
The birds do not make that connection;
They are more into circlings than endings.
And tomorrow they’ll be ready to go again
Making new patterns in the sky
Regardless of what the sun is doing,
Though perhaps drawing my attention
To the juxtaposition of chance events
From which I somehow create symbolic meanings
That pass them by.
© Peter Young 2014