turning the yellows to grey

 

watching the winds as they passed around
paddle-pushed and strained muting the sounds


passages spoken from a prophets tongue
depressing visions teaching their young


wading in whiskey on a crawl to the drain
cashing in puddles filled with lost change


wishing in wells so the spirit can tell
they gather in circles to pray

 

trolling the visions to make the decisions
turning the yellows to grey


halos in spring trespass in dreams
 thinking youre all alone


hearing what was only because

they are bound to be written in stone