What is this?

That small walking Boxelder knows the
secret of the early summer heat on red and
black wings. Why does it join with others
on every beautiful perch? What moves it there?
What calls it to the concrete walk
to dodge the feet of twelve year olds?

There is fear in seeing the universe move.
Any direction emptiness filled by
bogeymen and hobgoblins of the mind.
Demons who can crush your soul to the empty
blackness you see for a brief second
when the roses sway in warm south wind.

This is the fear of something larger
This is the terror of uncenteredness
Less and less time is ours to use.
Why not watch the universe move
in a pair of wings red and black
marching toward the joy of the sun?