The calamitous wings of the emerald bird
Beat the air like a crinkled sheet snapped back
But not quite cracked in two.
The air breathes on borrowed time
Embattled now, not yet resigned
To the dullness of no color.
Imminent now is a tomorrow
When bright green will not fly on bright blue
Or if it does we will not look to see it
For it is not that the sky is falling
But that the sky is charged to the point of snapping
And there are no musicians to acknowledge the beat.
Look up before the bird passes.
Every electric beat unacknowledged
Only proves we can no longer conduct.