Rises to the top
Time rises to the top of the cream twice;
bleating blues on sufficient yellows care for it
under geese chasing my sister-in-law across the meadow.
Downstairs where clutter sings songs of patriotism,
beyond the stakes, the game gets too high for gamblers.
She turns to face them and time kisses her slovenly.
In the aura of especial, signatures are moot and muted.