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Poem

A luxury sedan in a lone location
Moves along in endless time.
To be, to pass, and yet remain
Unmoved, untouched,
Always the same.


Suntapped tapers of autumn branches 
Spread and splinter, stark and bare
Against a sky of steely grey.
Heavy forks of oak and maple
Interlace in timeless arcs.
Complex fractals form labyrinths
Against a sky of pale contrast.

Through this nest of wood there passes
A road alive with sounds that ebb and flow
Of passing tires on hardened pavement
Sending sounds of whispered lapping
Like the sound of ocean waves
Softly washing a moonlit bank.

The sounds emerge and fade again
As swiftly as the sinking sound
Of silken sand drifting from a hand, 
Then subside again leaving only silence.
A lingering lapse of time unmoved 
Remains behind – an eternal lair.

All around the darkening road,
Trees rise stately, solid, strong.
Branches lift in exaltation
In a greeting to face the evening.
Dusk moves gently, stealing slowly, 
Like the folding of a mourning dove’s wing.

And still the sound of sighs persist,
Of passing cars on cold asphalt.
Untouched, unmoved by nature’s grace.
Without a glance, the drivers move
To never taste the felicity
Of the silent song within 
The deeply shadowed surrounding wood. 


A luxury sedan in a lone location
Moves along in endless time.
To be, to pass, and yet remain
Unmoved, untouched,
Always the same.

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