Snatching from the sky

As the rains shift and displace
left-over bits of sleep, ushering
blankets of distemper, carefully wound
inside the inevitable
cycles of seasons, somewhat
slightly earlier than usual.

Answering a deep-seated place,
first tentative, then
in tighter occurrences,
partly dependent
upon that collective voice of being
calling forth the open heavens.

Imperfect cover
for follies, humanised -
dense with habits scattered in the finite,
remembered in aggregates
exhaustible but replenished
from that endless existential turn.

Soaring on its own unearthly weight,
dragging deluded sentiments into the clear -
washed and almost faultless,
idling amongst the unfulfilled steps
with which weightless cities anchor
in between moments of lucidity.