THE FAR CRY

 

 

A single pod of seeds, the bare
redbud volunteer, come spring,
will obscure my view of the road;

the world beyond this black morning—
beyond the owl in the oaks above me;
the cobbled mumbles of the creek.

With the hillside chorus of coyotes
and canyon’s replies, the ridgeline
holds-up heaven’s brilliance

in a sky of stars—unabashed
and unafraid of any circumstance
that may engulf us all.

 

3 responses to “THE FAR CRY

  1. So many evocative images. Perhaps I’m wilfully blind but I sense tentative hope. Regardless, gorgeous poem, John.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The cobbled mumbles of the creek !

    Liked by 1 person

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