Time ripens
In a matter of weeks
Days even
And releases its winged potentials
To the chaos of chance and wind
Good or bad or indifferent
Will be found in the landing
And how well these tumblers stick
And if in the end there will be a cup of tea
Or something else to savour
A ‘lion will want to roar
But sometimes the prophet will have the louder word
And in quiet and gentleness will be your strength