The Soft Padding of Young Lions
(An Interloper)

Your youth savage and overflowing
breaches your DNA like sunspots
in time lapse yet your bursts are silent as
clouds scudding a summer’s sky.

You jam currents in the rooms
you enter reversing polarities
there is no true north around you.

Are you a woodsman come a-clearing or
a troubadour a-ballading maybe
a minstrel for supper’s pleasure?
What is your business here?