Family of Birds
by Meredith Elder

When overhanging dreams
offer little
think of years
as a cassette tape in rewind
as a foreign sound from the future
that is not yours.

play it every morning.
if it warps, this is good.
Slap peanut butter on it
and stick it back into the player.

It’s like looking up the time
after the fact
after the eclipse and shrugging.

You can roll your eyes but
In the routine of it all we are each out here
tying fake daisies to the base of pens.
and messing up Michael Stipes’ americano.

The high schooler who is paid minimally
tends to the yard in minimal reciprocity
and I get it.
He will hear squawking and wonder
if he carelessly mowed a family of birds.
As will the barista, as will your boss.
They might hear the sound of polishing glass.

It’s all about context.

This is your chaos tape
to which you braid your hair.

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Meredith Elder is an artist and poet in Atlanta, USA. She writes obsessively about change as a concept, so as not to obsess over the changes themselves.

@meldera    meredithelder.com