Red Anthonies

Launched spinning, gyrating,
The child of an idle brain or
of an insidious intent,
Gaining altitude across the lawn
up the street or at God,
Where once another had come to meet it,
Never having really approached dogmatic,
He stretched his legs, arms, wit,
Now clamors hollowly across the asphalt,
Catching a moment of the Spring Sun,
As it had glowed 'neath the lamplight
and the moon
Or passed over a mug of beer.