Times, there are,

When life takes on new meaning,

When galvanising action begs its turn,

When weathervanes rotate in new direction,

Heralding of storms and change to come.

Times, there are,

When cockerel crows a new tune,

Breaks the dawn with cries of harmony,

Resists the squalls, lengthens neck and fills lungs,

Calls to coop and land to rise anew, as free.

Times, there are,

When life holds up a mirror,

Questions what you see, what you believe,

Forces venial vanity to take stock,

‘Who is fairest, who in land is thief?’

Times, there are,

When pride and proud must bow down,

Listen to the chorus sung afresh,

Consider days ahead, not merely morning,

One with clouds of change, winds’ altered breath.


16 thoughts on “Weathervane”

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