Goode Guy Poet Narrative

Lay of the Land

reading between the brow,
furrowed as it were,
the earth - the dirt of his face,
his eyes - his eyes tell a tale
seeded with rhizomes burrowing
deep in his psyche from all 
the rings of his years

what has grown down there?
mushrooming into fullness
of speculation and strength,
of oaken striations
lining all the creases
of life and the bird's-eye
whorls that are his eyes

the impossible is there,
the possible is there too
the anger of burnt suns
past ruddy iris's
is smoothed in saline
glistened to a cameo pink

stubble sticks out from
the furrows and cracks of
mounding cheeks and a 
bone-dry chin jutting 
into a world it has known
for seasons beyond the horizon

facing the future dauntless,
with a smile, his countenance 
beckons invitation to ask,
questions that he asked once 
and was given answers by choice, 
by others or simply by living

© Goode Guy 2012-08-22

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