Enough's Enough

Clouds bat the sun's ball of crystal yarn
with fluffy white paws. Wind tousles
the chimes. That's its part. Whether the result
is resonant or the grating of forks
and knives is up to the chimes. The sun
shines, that’s what it does, and the clouds
push their wheelchairs, back and forth,
across the sky. The light lowers its legs
into the chair, sits down and stands up again
after a restful ride. It’s nice to kick back
in the passenger seat and take it easy
but after a while, when enough is enough,
the hands itch for the steering wheel,
and the wheel wants to be back in the hands.

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