Early Mornings Poem by Seth Brands

the fingers of the
wind carded through my hair,
the gesture gentle, loving
like a mother consoling her
distressed newborn, reminding me
everything will be
alright.

the sun gently
tickled my face, softly warming my skin
until the november air
doesn't feel cold anymore, but the
world seems less
cold, and more warm.
i think of the hearts of people
how our soils are
often permafrost without intent.

i look up, swallows defying gravity
high above me, making turns and tricks
looking like the sky is their limit, but
for the function of the saying, one oft
forgets that the strongest
most dangerous winds aren't down here
they're up where the swallows fly.

fish jump up beneath the old bridge
from the river, straining to reach the sky
fly above their wildest dreams
jump, fish, jump
now you still can, before the river
freezes over, before winter
claims his throne and rules over nature awaiting spring's arrival

but right now
none of the long-existing battle for
survival in which our ancestors partook
is visible

not for the observer on the bridge.
what a shame, what a shame
that the battle of aeons is singled down to
this

a boy humming on a bridge
humming along to a song he doesn't know
not aware of the beauty around him
and the celestial powers that his conspecifics
are happily destroying

his moment
his present
his reality
is one of relative peace
let's keep it that way.