They roll around my stream
eggs that follow my actions
unable to find an avatar
or unwilling to commit now
still seeing if they gather
back a herd for themselves
to seek some high cliff
to plunge over in despair
so I smile behind beard
hiding my mental images mostly
save for moments like now
when the rumble of shells
makes me wonder what's inside
those shells of the shy.
Perhaps nothing more than vapors
so like the smoke lifting
from my pipe this morning
into the calm, warm air
until the front slid close
and stirred up the wind.
One hopes they have fillings
rather than be empty space
that implodes into dark oblivion
when they leave with bangs
or just a soft swoosh.
A few very rare occasions
they shatter their plain shells
to sizzle in frying pans
of blazing flames of anger
but mostly, they just rot
never hatching into a bird
to fly among the others
tweeting their many diverse opinions.
13December2012 - Dyfedd Rex
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