Swinging wire,
wild, jerking a nimble chain,
casting shadows behind raindrops,
a cacophony of bird songs all around.
Limericks, spoken word,
spilling onto the pavement,
ravishing warm concrete,
enveloping puddles and all that’s among them
plus oversized feet.
Limerick, a taut rope
above of a busy highway,
running quickly,
trailing ink and a clown’s makeup
down his grim white cheeks.
Watching this unfold,
where is the sympathy?
Where is there a hand to hold ?
Dawning Creations 
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