the rains
the arc of the bay swollen as a woman gone far with child
sallow gulls flap against the clouds propping up the sky
shy stars lay hidden beneath the foot lamps of a celestial stage
the moon a lunar dome of a great bald rabbi in a skullcap takes a small bow then a pirouette
then washes away by the transit of grey and black swirling hues in a dark masquerade
the mind of the Holy Man is concentrated on a moral issue just as a silver coin stolen
by a thief is flipped
its outcome unknown
then it fell to earth confused as the Jovian gas giant swaps disguises in a pantomime
he chose not the air not the sea nor the earth nor fire
he sought out the future
just as disputants
streamed in his wake
the arc of the bay provided a safer haven than seas governed by a gathering tempest
Flynnpoetry 