Sorting out the allegory,
Dividing up the spoils
To which we are entitled
According to some archaic law
Of our own.
These times are not the norm
And we can’t quite recall normalcy
Aside from the time the catfish jumped
A good three feet above the water,
The summer the moon froze in full mode
For two straight months.
I remember old folks telling of strange sightings
In the northern sky, and they claim the winter was harsh
That year and the women all spoke in language
That would have mortified their own sensibilities
Any other time.
It seems we all adjust to these changes sooner or later.
The wind is always shifting and desires are nothing more
Than wants- not needs.
Graphite is a smooth remedy
And taken under strict orders from doctors
It can ease the entry to even the most mysterious
Openings in life.
We all look for our chances.
Opportunity comes and goes
But mostly hangs out
In Jackson Hole.