Today; in reprieve.

It is my soul that is dancing,

The spirit free awoken,

The snippet of urban punk rock

birdsong;

From the tree above,

My moment enhances

My inertia flow, that steamrollers all wrongs.

Of course, it is punk that the bird's chorus in choir

They are shrieking, not singing,

Those Lords above us,

Chanting and mocking us,

Their acrobatics in space,

They show us the grace,

Of the world around us

That to endure for

In the mind,

And hope again.