Sunday, March 27, 2016

The Way Things Are

Was the way things were going,
The heart like a bird trapped in the house,
Unable to escape or quit escaping.

The full moon started to wane at dawn
Over red and white winter desert.
A wild turkey crossed the road.

The world stretched out its luxuriant self,
Gorgeous and hostile as ever, never
Exactly the same. Pink shelled skies

Tempted the sore heart to try harder,
Soar. The invisible world waited
Like glass to stun the escape.

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