I look out this window
open next to me,
shades rent to a frosted slate sky,
dull bark rubbed course
by a winter’s draw

I look out this window
and see a world unlike my own,
the needs and want of economy
biased within the wheel
of a time’s onward cycle ebbing

I look out this window,
the view a lagging onslaught
of a juncture’s sojourn noted,
with last and fitful flowers there,
a seed forgotten here,
leaves curled in, down to
a brief home and covert hearth

I look out this window
and I see. . . .

A place to step into, with a
yearning to grab hold of, for a
season to bend old toward,
where there are so many
being fleet and beaten bare
by an eternity’s lasting gasp


First Published by: Wilderness House Literary Review
Publication Date – 07/03/17
Issue # – Volume 12, No. 2




About Reality's Bellow

I like to ponder life's eccentricities. I don't really want to explain them or even understand them, just ponder...
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