Torpor Sun,

by September 3, 2014 0 comments

allowing winds
to douse your ferocity;

for clouds to billow
wildly, unbridled
across your numb

face. Your dawn
disoriented, perishes
before birthing;

allowing dim shades
to nudge your glariness,

for roofs to construct
over your unsheltering,

for trees to flutter
their leaves in breeze;

for bees to settle
on flowers longer
than dictated.

A winter and spring
are unfettered in battle;

mischief unbound,
abound brooks
and streams rousing;

dishevelled is calm
sans your breathing.


maundering sun,
you are allowing
way too much…

editors note:

All that living of life unchecked? No telling what mayhem a moving sun might make. – mh

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