Basiliscus
Posted: August 12th, 2011, 6:41 am
The conflagration that is August in Ohio ended abruptly.
Huge oak leaves, an ugly shade of brown pile on the sidewalk
though the grass is green after days of hard rain,
it's sixty-one degrees at four-thirty in the morning and the
television is off, yet speaks in monotones with yesterday's news;
the prognostication of the element that is joy is buried like a treasure,
it takes a fire to lighten the load
and burn through the aftermath of all that is green, a thousand shades
of colour is reconciled in the room where we sleep,
dreaming with our ancestors,
falling into oblivion and telling stories of how we ran across the water
like little ruffled dragons.
Huge oak leaves, an ugly shade of brown pile on the sidewalk
though the grass is green after days of hard rain,
it's sixty-one degrees at four-thirty in the morning and the
television is off, yet speaks in monotones with yesterday's news;
the prognostication of the element that is joy is buried like a treasure,
it takes a fire to lighten the load
and burn through the aftermath of all that is green, a thousand shades
of colour is reconciled in the room where we sleep,
dreaming with our ancestors,
falling into oblivion and telling stories of how we ran across the water
like little ruffled dragons.