Thick evening air
presses against my skin.
One lonely whippoorwill
calls out, and I know the
history books won’t matter
in the end.

I ride waves of
unpredictable weather
and even more erratic
politics – the riots for
change decades too late.

We’ve spent too much time
mad for the wrong reasons
turned on each other while
the world burns, and those
with money placed their bets,
growing richer.

We wait for it to settle
back to normal and back
to our daily grind, but
Mother Nature has other
plans compensating for
the holes we’ve made
looking for our fortunes.