LOW ATMOSPHERIC DRONE
Eared grebes mate on a park swing. I’ll never hear or see the future
Now I’m over a Memorial Day Parade.
Veterans boo the tubist line.
I want to know why but I’m not on
a fact-finding mission.
I’ve 64 separate lenses and 50 zoom closer than the human squint.
I sweep land masses.
An engineer in love with me promises a ring
of amethyst rods along my south side to demist…