Thursday, August 2, 2012


Listening to the night’s
Wild heart beating like
A mother can’t wait for
Her children to awaken
Pacing along the high
Way along the railroad
Tracks in metronomic
Drone impatient ‘midst
An enveloping darkness
With an urgent desire
For light cradled inside
Its dew soaked breast
Dawn approaches as a
Burned out filament in
A cloud soaked bulb a
Straight line in a bent
World cannily ignorant
Of Nature’s insistent
Voice & yet so oddly
Enticed by its deadly


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