Blackbirds thrilling, shrill
and eerie, in a hurry.
Life shrouded in clouds
thick with rain, oscuring
the sun and the naked moon
is the nimbus’ bow tie.
You are black, and I
am white, the colors,
ying and yang, though
we are mainly time’s
tuxedo, clinging to him
following his thunderous
stride. Holding on, to time,
to one another for if we
fall apart, time will run out.