Political Landscape

We are under siege.

Crowds, of reddening buds, are forming in the treetops,
riots, of chartruese, are breaking by the river,
and gangs, of yellow, line the roadways.

Masses, of birds, gather without permit.
Voices, singing singing, increase in volume daily
and a dam's levee, rushed by rain swollen creeks
has broken the bank.  All is madness.

A heady, dancing anarchy is taking the day.
Good taste be damned, too much has become just right.