Night Song

dramatic-sky-871284477718aWgT.jpg

1459875_738362122859721_1670558141_n.jpg

Night-Song

Think!" she whispers, a blast of air singing the tip of his cocked ear

We must synchronize our steps softly,
map a path through pavements

Before

The soft tint of mother's oft sung Tincture-of-Red-Finger

Rising already - rages

Ready to write with gnarled fingers our fated-answer

to the Integral-Feared-Question we must face ...

"Think!" she whispers, voice dangerously climbing

"Think-cool, in this hellish heated night as

the satanic soft tint rises teasing toward conflagration,

blazes all chance of our survival, surrendering us forever

to this unyielding pavement as the sleeping giants stir, wake

and snatch us with their big sticks, charred and forever lost

"Think! and remember The Way, as we run from mother's

stillness, her bloodied fur rippling in the moonlight breeze

crested waves on this sea of ceaseless, sad, silent solitude

Now, from her open ignominious grave, slack-jawed empty-eyed

She  importunes us, her only offspring,
to throw back our heads,

in the sages-holy-howl-at-the-luminous-orb and run,

Run! - as you, the elder, were taught as a tumbling pup

Run, to the safety of the waiting woods waving us,

to the soft moss, to slake our thirst in the cool creek

and fall together, muzzles dripping, breathing slow-heaving

Survival

Safe

Home

~

The Sunday Whirl « weekly wordles