Tuesday, July 14, 2009

what comes next

mist rises and falls
with your breath

the sea shouts in waves
the myriad names
of our dead

gulls scream their
obscene pitch
above the din
of the day

pungent pine wafts
through air
like an arrow
shot straight
to pierce the softest
of marrow

or an oft avoided
appointment
with dread

No comments: