The Illusion of Recycled Time
I look at photos of before
and fear there will be none for after.
The creationists would know
where to find that bridge,
though I have never believed in
the relationship between these
maple trees, jumbled clouds
and a steeple rising from farm land,
all moulded by a calloused hand.
2 comments:
Ooooh. You're on a roll here. I like this too. A reasonably subtle environmental message, I find.
Good on ya for doing the poetry month thing. And here I thought you were just enjoying a creative spurt. Either way, it seems to be working for you.
It's early in the month, Peter. Just wait until the flood of strange Haiku/Senru by the end of the month. And in desperation, perhaps a stay cinquain or two :).
h.
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