Hailing matters of great concern

there’s a word for this

and its meaning cracks over time.

Railing against a rated burn

there’s a place for this

and it’s feeling cold inside.

Combined to heed the sun

in spite of an elderly,

noble aggressor,

we hang you out to dry

and writhe in boundless, broken

chunks of moss-hewn heft.

Bite down and wait for the morning

when the birds are in full song

and the people are

long gone.