Hallowed Hypocrites

At the Circus there is a clown
Smiling in miseries and concealing a frown,

Of swinging trapezes and muted gasps
For daily bread and a hundred claps,

The tight-rope walker can never steer
But only hope for his path to clear,

Hurling knives the juggler flirts
With his life and the dancers in skirts,

Limping with élan the ring-master touts his whip
No battle-scars here just a scathed hip,

Of animals that greet and dance on toes
Despite the age and hunger woes,

With the Circus, they walk a thousand miles
To bring cheer and spread smiles.

Brittle Boundaries

To the birds and for the clouds

Home is sky, travel is vowed,

Friendships are occasional
Flight is spiritual,

Waves caressing the land
Greeting to take away more sand,

One world on each side
Where to live you decide.