Brenda Warren
The breeze harvests and scatters.
Contours gather in the periphery,
Summaries and juxtapositions,
Entire colonies of angular limbs
Partitioning and prevaricating,
An insolent and imbecilic palate
Trellised but insurmountable
And I on the ground looking up.
*
My bent gaze perforates the splendor
Of a seldom populated dimension
These parsimonious shadows
That move without so much as a rattle,
The able-bodied dusk weeps
Secular and sanctimonious
My nose extends plainly
From my illogical face
And I just might be a scarecrow.
*
I love when the shadows are gathering and the sun is low but bright, it is the best time to talk a walk
mindlovemisery 