Sunday, September 01, 2013


The woods are dim and misted
the reaper spreads his hands
but comes back empty-fisted
for still the structure stands

as crickets chirp a chorus
that's far from any dirge
percussive rain plays for us
a beat that drives our urge

to dance with new abandon
across the gossamer grain
and chase what we imagine
while measures yet remain.

No comments: