Sketches - 17 (August 25th, 2014)

17.

A painting dreams itself still-life

and streets glowing and shadowed

over by midnight street lights

are raw with silence -

               prevailing claustrophobe

                            silence.

Its going to storm.

Lightning flash antics in God’s

clouded over dream sky.

And it's HOURS past twilight,

witching hour midnight in fact,

             
our cat left a dead bird

             by way of gift under one of our

             black chairs out back.

In the toss-for-chance

you never know what you’ll get.

One night, high and lofty as

giants and the next, low

              as worms.

Birds peck at worms, treats

in the mud and gone, most

feeling the migration urge,

flying off to warmer climes -

          change in constant

          like disappearing flapping

          geese V’s squawking

          honking out like packs

          of wild dogs.

(August 25th, 2014)

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