Suppose Prose
How does one heed every warning, flail and flutter
like the duck out of water - wobble instead of walk.
Some or much auccustory talk lined up in neat little rows
attempting to make pieces fit in peace and yet only stir
the pot. For some the season change brings greener
grasses, others life withdraws to fade...as freedoms
decrease, sight diminishes, ability to reason fades...
How do we capture and preserve the beauty that remains
when our hands seem tied, our breath falters and sighs
like spiders gossamer silk, once strong...weakens and fades?
Calling all poets, brace your pens quickly find any form -
seize and savor for us the crisp bright blue dawn before
the final curtain draws and shadows herald the final dusk.
©JP/davh
Note:
The inspiration for this piece is taken from the ‘headlines’ -
fresh and hot off the press...While there is great relief in some
areas - criminals caught, the new chapter starts, and families
still grieve. Weather and emotions brew...can we find a piece
of peace?
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