Channel Surfing

There are long-standing reminders
Of the not so long ago past
Time melting clocks in a real take on art
We are a museum on pause

Nature is running its course
Retaking the park bench on third
Fluttering on the lamppost
Overseeing the streetlight crossing

Waiting patiently for another morsel
Cracked open by the occasional car
Acorns strewn across the street
Captured stars pulled to earth

There’s a four story limit
On these fingers pointed skyward
Telling tall tales
Watching paint melt into the night

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