Sonnet Of The High Sun

At noon, we stride and walking together
The peace is stronger than the war of now.
A man shall face his maker and neighbour,
Then noon turns dust to stone, due to the cow.

A worker finds one’s heart aflutter since,
May charges be just sent towards disgust;
My cuckoo crawls and sings for that old prince
Who seeks a land of birds, crazy trust!

This land is of those birds in flight across
The seas of fortune, and of course destroy
A noon, when called by some, and not at loss
Are these delights: destroy the very toy!

Our land is awkward and designed by birds
That fly at noon, to shoot across some words.