Wavering Rainbows Drifting

Not long ago, franchised hope of elections cycled periodically, but always with more fervor every four years in November. Today, we're down to such cycles every month.

Wavering Rainbows Drifting

 

 

Habituation eased into town long ago
Thought to be natural,

It was.

Praised as stability,
It was.
Embraced as destiny,
It was.

 

Procreation ruled the nights,
Delivery rooms,

 the days.
Time passed and like flies to a sugar fix,
Habituation swarmed bank tellers on payday,
Local bars on Friday night,
Churches on Sunday.

 

Workweek habits continued,
Harassment ‘round the water cooler,

A*s kissing ‘round the bosses,

Entitlement ‘round the calling-in-sick phone.

 

Then something happened.

 

Times got rough.

Unemployment rose.

Businesses shut down.
Politicians sought donations elsewhere.

Habituation stumbled out of town.

 

Dark became the memories of enticements.

Cobwebs hung furtively,

Tying unlit lamp post to shattered neon signs,
Side streets to alleyways,
Locked doors to broken windows.

 

Summer storms passed over,

Leaving muddy puddles,

Their rippled reflections
But gurgling echoes to the moon.
Goodbye waves of regret.

 

Today…

 

Not far down the road,

A new infestation of impassioned hunters
Polish their duplicitous wings,

Awaiting yet another bounty of ignorance
To buy into the inducement
Of both flight
And fright,
Believing this,
Believing that,
Unaware that allurement
Is a barb of many disguises.

 

Just as on a clear night,
Or a dew-covered sunrise,
Wings of abalone color
Will flicker from the webs of
Habituation's seductive lure,

Alerting tomorrows entrapment of imagings,

Like restless wings of dragonflies
Hoverimg like wavering rainbows drifting.