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The Bird and the Trumpet

Flowing water swept away the expression

Smooth tranquil ice chilled in the winter cold

An exodus a trampling a song

Ideas exchanged and never meeting

Meeting and never changed

The end is near

They cried and ran and flailed

But they peeked over shoulders

Hidden under covers in the dark

The earth trembling from the stampede

A sound hailing a shake-up

The trumpeting noise

Disrupting the flock into flight

Some land on the pachyderm

Others in disharmony

a cacophony of opinions

Some run counter to the rest

Never getting off the ground

And this is how

Great changes come about

A shake up and a resettling

A restructuring building something new

With tools honed over the unfolding

That went before

The trumpet blew

The birds flew

Where we land is a place

We never knew

three black handset toys
Photo by Alex Andrews on

2 thoughts on “The Bird and the Trumpet

  1. Now you’re talking. You nailed it this time.

    1. Thank you, Rick!

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