The sky above and the dried mud below

What might have been a sun inhabiting
The sky, once dignified, now unseen
No longer glittering- into the abyss of
The night; what might have been a
Tree inhabiting a desert, once bearing
Fruit, now bare, its leaves and
Branches echoing in the dry air;
What might have been a pool,
Now a dry pool, sand-dune edged
Now an empty alley of dried mud
Quietly quietly water surface.

Sun and roots in the mud
Clots the living sky
And the breathing tree
Unconscious emptying shadows
Time and bits of heat
And twigs whirled in the lungs
Of the drying wind
Unhealthy souls.

Here is a place of darkness
Evacuation of living things
Black clouds clutch and cling
Their fingers burying the bird’s wing
Cold
Air descending lower
Light and wood into the silence.

The stillness, as a mud-crack stillness
Crying for the rain as the dust moves
Sudden a shaft of cloud
There falls the hidden moisture
Of rain quick now, pouring into the
Dry sad time- the sun stretches, light
Moving. all is always now, cleansing.

Copyright © 10/30/2016 lance sheridan®

wpnp

 

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2 comments on “The sky above and the dried mud below

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