Bunny Lamp

It’s towards the end of july and the gloom still hangs.
So we all wait.
Wait for what?
There’s a groaning garbage truck, a cluster of birds.
Waiting.
The chrysalis cracks and the wings dry and we fly away but when?
There’s a box of kittens given away.  New lives begin.
But when?
The start is me.
That’s what you’ll say.
Raise the rod and deem it so.
I have begun.
But no.
That’s not how it works.
And how arrogant.
Clusters of stars exploding before our eyes and I say that I’m the center?
No.
Not at all.
Swept away, we all are.
Maybe we can paddle a bit left or a bit right but that’s all.
It goes where it goes, and it doesn’t even know we’re here.