(Warning: trigger) It wasn’t for want of terror – inexplicable horror caused me to quake There was no one to hear – a remote lair, boarded ensured the perfect crime Even in the aftermath – self erased, movement adrenalin automaton Even then, no sound, voice stifled by guilt certainty blame was mine Art of dissociation […]
Autumn dons a mask, regales the changing season, ignores Winter’s threat – and I too, dance, brightly clad, deny the nearness of death.
In Mallard’s wake woe – with clipped wings, I watch and yearn for Winter sojourn. (For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day, and RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: wake/wail)
this both reads and looks delicate and vulnerable, precious life.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very precious. Thanks
LikeLike
Love the poem – with the pictures. All delicate and yet balanced. Now we are fighting to keep that balance…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always….lol…thanks.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Perfect to find that lovely bird with no leave to block your lens! Beautiful
LikeLiked by 1 person
Don’t you love it when that happens? Not often enough. Thanks Tina.
LikeLike
Beautiful words.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful, V.J., both the poem and the photos!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pas de quoi, mon amie!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Terrie!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Looks like I sent you two responses – one in french and intended for someone else, lol. Oh those senior moments.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha ha! Believe it or not, I figured out what the one in French meant…. Have a great weekend!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You too!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful! ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person