Lands like a witch in the pond
A huge black fall from the sky
Shaking the order of things
On the day of redundancies
For 158 maybe possibly could be
Perhaps proposed just a draft
Next month or next year, black
Moods descend, we talk morale
Attrition and obfuscation.
To the wings flapping on the water
I declare my intentions
Hoping to pondwatch and meadowpatch
The real tangible living heaving bird
Calls for the rest of time while the chorister
Belts out the song of paradise regained.
Copyrighted by the author.