A quarter-hour of anticipation

In unfamiliar spaces, along unknown transit ways

 

The scent of a strange elevator raises my defense in days

 

A quarter hour of waiting, results yet to be known

 

Feels like a black hole, sucking all to the bone

 

Twister twins arise, tracing paths in the air

 

Reflecting New Orleans' jazz flair with an old antique's glare

 

As it arcs through the sky, an eagle happens by

 

Its majestic demeanor underlining the high

 

Tales told by objects old and new on this scene

 

Speak volumes of life's mysterious routine

 

In twelve patterns of routine we capture this dance

 

Of unfamiliar journeys and chance circumstance