by Frank C. Praeger

Silence summarily dismissed,
separated from sunlight, wind,
dust, and the smoky remains of a last inhabitation,
the riding out away from it, disclaimers for every drifter,
filled pot,
dying plant,
and one petite green insect flinging itself into space.
It may be over with,
it may no longer be satisfied,
it may no longer be what was wanted.
The quick bird gone,
sunlight through the rafters,
russet purple grass, black-eyed Susan, oxeye daisy
spread out into the field before me.
Dream shades into dream.
Green dwarfs green thoughts.
Stars clump,
ditto black smoke,
gouged ground,
a stump filled hill,
stamped down debris,

that lingers,

and a drowsy spell.
A sideways step before brazenly going forward,
confronted by a dog that always barks,
a cat that runs away,
a life that can’t be saved.
For now a dull edge cuts,
walls bulge,
sirens approach,
traffic rerouted
as the wind lurches to a halt.

* * * * *

Frank C. Praeger is a retired research biologist who has had poetry published in various journals in the UK and the USA.