A rooftop system

Some kind of summer has appeared past the equinox.
The sun returns like a psychotherapist ready to listen,
so I tell him I'm tired of people with power not helping people. Rigid grips of control.

A flock of pigeons flit South, North, South —
with indecision or design 
I don't know.

But it's beautiful. Underwing grey turns holographic in the sun's highlight. 
They tell me they are never alone. 

The relief. I am so relieved that there are
patterns of the natural world still
untouched. 

That you can look up and find a yes,
stretching soft. 


C. LJ Ireton 2025

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