Better days

junked willys jeep

True is it that we have seen better days. Dark are the hours as our time draws nigh. Memories wane, bones rattle, blind eyes glaze, The glory of our youth belie. Mired amongst the coppice, Where the earth doth strive to reclaim, Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, There’s no one ‘cept self to blame.

Urban sprawl

green pinecone on black asphalt

A field of asphalt stretching for miles Pungent scent of hot petroleum in stagnant summer air Unwelcoming, harsh and unyielding An oasis of green, lost upon the black pitch Faint perfume, clean, crisp balsam Reminiscent of fall, sweet and soothing

Midnight hour

black and white, bridge and rising moon

Bathed in the spectral radiance of the full moon, Edges of fancy become distinct for a heartbeat, Shimmering with each toll of the hour. At the boundary between yesterday and tomorrow. A foot in both dimensions, I stand timorous, Hesitant in my decision. I walk toward the light...