This Mortal World
Flies swarm the dead corpse lying in the dirt.
A day passes without a flower or soft spoken word.
Footsteps approach, stop; shuffle back and forth,
kick the soil then meander on.
Blustery wind blows cold, whipping up debris
then laying it atop the stiff body.
The night air sings a shrilling melody till the
eyes of dawn.
Twilight yawns; a heap of compost now covers the
lifeless soul, footsteps return and imprint the mound
so neatly designed.
The cold wind cries as the trees stretch and bow in grief.
A stray dog, discovers the heaping debris and begins
to dig; recovers a bone then runs away.
This mortal world numb to this unknown entity
lying discarded on the freezing earth, unburied and
Copyright © 2004 By Caryl S. Muzzey