Turning, and revolution
By Jack Brummet
When grass is pulled up
The sod comes with it
There is no one
Without the other
The host and the tenant are locked
In mostly benign equilibrium
Each valley is followed by a slope
And every going followed by a return
There is no relief without an ache
And no virus without a host
One who parries danger
Is testing the margins of life
The bricks tumble into the moat
The king's body hangs naked
From the flagpole
A ruler topples
And for one fleeting moment
The condition exists for change.
---o0o---
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