I stride the clouds with terror in my wake,
And chase the setting sun through twilight skies.
I roam beneath, as stars' cold diamond eyes
All witness when I sail the midnight lake.
I watch your mighty races rise and fall,
Their tallest towers naught but broken sticks.
I whisper to the blessed lunatics,
The only ones who hear my siren's call.
Tall mountains offer me no place to hide,
Though travels carry me past yonder hill.
When new, the wise detect my presence still:
My passage often alters time and tide.
Because you've heard the songs about me crooned,
You shouldn't be surprised when you get mooned...
Mick McKellar
January 2015
I sing a song of the silver surfer, traversing the indigo depths of the midnight sky.
Mick
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