I haven’t written poetry in quite some time, but I’ve been feeling more reflective lately so I decided to spend today’s simple pleasure summarizing my thoughts in a poem.
Scouting the crest because that will save us.
Forecasting evaluating preventing all harms.
And still death—crumbled leaves and a chill in the air—encircled us.
Holding on fondly in pious regret for what’s been.
Cherished tokens, our hands shaking to cradle.
But rain dirt sun wind will blot out any trace of our footfalls.
Here—in snowdrift, puddle, wilted flower or fresh forest—as we are.
Before and after hallucinations our minds concoct.
Within each heartbeat and breath, whole universes dawn, descend and are reborn.