Rocks That Fall Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

this sun,
this high ball of yellow
soon to stoop, but for now
it's the bladed cliff that's
red
folded in layers, neat as a
swiss army knife, and here
fallen
these renegade boulders
tumbled by shocks, mason
squared, as though on
the way up for a new cathedral,
but instead do the sly-inch
down to the foam-winged sea

All moves downwards,
and on the point,
bare for eons
they build hurry-up houses
jammed tight these toy bricks
like battery chicks you
feed them lifespans
until the front doors close
with a soft click, then,
only then
will they start the broadcasts
and drown your song