End of the World
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THESE ARE MY RECENT POEMS. MY FIRST BOOK OF POEMS WILL BE RELEASED SOON BY GOLDMINDS PUBLISHING. http://www.goldmindspub.com/#!bill-yates/c10a6
A screech-owl sounds in the distance,
Maybe two miles away.
He signals:
The trees understand.
There is no time here for drooping
Or hanging like a bat.
Why do owls screech, anyway?
It is a mystery
Known only to the forest,
Which waits for the drama
to unfold
Like a bird's wing taking flight.
There are no words in this still evening,
Nor wind at work.
There are only the sounds
That pierce the air with warning.
A cloud drifts overhead
And time stops.
It is the end of the world--
But only for a moment.
Then the next act is played out
Upon the stage of life.
Copyright © Bill Yates | Year Posted 2015
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