Plume in a Jar

Early in the morning, driving past
Thinking not I’d see a die cast
With full blown sun on the horizon
Driving thoughts of layers of ozone
I three balloons saw in the air
And a winged flock towards them their way did stir
Divinely soaring
And imperially laughing
And I did gasp: gee!
Who? Me? Let’s see!
Would someone of the holy, holy
Trinity
Tell them
Or tell them
Of the arms checking
And balancing
Each of the three trumps in our deck
Hanging on each others neck!
Freely, the balloons, in the air floated
And freely in the air, at pariahs the birds gloated
Catching a view of them at dead ends scavenging
For earthly salvation scavenging
While a king atop a throne
With a load from afar happily groomed and grown;
Dropping one of their feathers in a jar,
The birds ordered a song for the bar
Behind which king and groomer
Will stand to share the shroud of Mr Deceiver
The which the poet in me hurriedly picked
Before he could on the butt be kicked.