The circle’s canter has changed
and we’ve come strangely south,
a refreshing disorientation
that finds us more talkative
but with louder glances
and thicker skin than the start.
Where’s the thirsty blue?
The glow of satiated orange?
When dawn breaks gray and sick,
it’s a gamble on persistence.
But no worries, not all is lost,
just hiding among sleeping flowers
and the memories of new words.