The Innisfree Poetry Journal www.innisfreepoetry.org by Mercedes Lawry
Witnessing the Edges
Under buttered clouds, blue jays scuttle, the limp mud studded with leaves gold and starry. In the brush a coyote waits, eyes keen, lean and patient. The crows take notice, assemble. Dark comes early, bruising the sky, bare branches an emphasis of black scramble. November is unsettling, something pending, maybe danger, maybe just a year folded up. Cold threads bones like spider silk, a threat, a synthesis, urgent, spoiling for a fight before collapse. Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication |