they form a kind of
-------flecked blackness
---------------in the distant
-----------------------sunday morning
------------------------------------sky
---------------------------------there must
-------------------------------be a thousand
----------------------------------or more
-----------------------flying in curvy
------------------check marks
which
like the clouds
keep moving and changing
and we watch through car windows
and think about
how late in the year
it is for geese to be taking
----------------------------wing
and heading south it must be
the melting ice bergs
and poison gases bringing
impending
disaster and doom
to our comfy lives
and clockwork seasons
now
every unusual season and natural disaster
is a black smudge
in the distant sky
meanwhile-------I turn the car off at the drive thru
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