Funny Old World

It’s a funny old world,
this word-world of mine,
where one day
I am whirled off my feet
and the next
my feet seem to be set
in concrete.

Meaning?

I throw the question out,
a bone to the dog,
sun-flower seeds for the chipmunks,
but there’s no reply.

Only the crows,
black-winged monarchs
destined to wear
a weighty crown,
cry out their anguish,
longing for the day
when they’ll rule again.