Callous
as it carves an arc
the scythe knows not of the grass
or cares of its fate
–
autumn wind
swirling oak leaves
carried aloft
as it carves an arc
the scythe knows not of the grass
or cares of its fate
–
autumn wind
swirling oak leaves
carried aloft
a cavernous void
of fears and uncertainty
filling drop by drop
–
darkening forest
a deep growl
in the distance
patiently waiting
the river of time seems to
slow to a trickle
–
mayflies
in the pond
a snapping turtle
a kestrel soaring
circling on warm updrafts
focused on its prey
–
wings swept
plummeting
earthward
spying Earth from space
a hard reminder of our
insignificance
–
a sand grain
amidst the
multitude
the clinking of ice
he signals the bartender
for just one more drink
–
false dawn
an owl returning
to it’s nest
toiling at the fire
sweat rolls off the smithy’s face
and turns into steam
–
wide oak boughs
shadows
cross the forge
concentric ripples
spreading across the surface
of a misty lake
–
lakeshore
a striped bass
breaks the surface
the weathered old man
makes peace with the universe
tending his bonsai
–
fiddlehead ferns-
seeking god in
the golden ratio
blinded by hatred
enrobed in the ignorance
of what love can be
–
midnight-
groping for
the light