Aridisol
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Human emotion
the exploration of
a
the underlain
topsoils of
clayey deposits
a camera merley captures it's sight
loamy the interconnectedness
beneath our feet
perfection in human sight
the depths of the alluvial outwash
pretty in every measure
quarts agate and gems
the treasures of a cobbled assortment
the perfections I marveled at the
crown jewel of the bunch
meditating on the dirt beneath our feet
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Uhm, uh, ooh, auh, ooh
and Mmmmm,auh,ooh!
her sandles were full of clay and sand
she sat to enjoy agave edible flowers and stalks
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Leaves chant in brown, "Thirty days hath November, too."
What is that I hear? I draw a lingering breath,
as I contemplate this year, the outwash of death.
Autumn has arrived. And I remember anew...
We grasshoppers rest, unlike the diligent ant;
chills we don't address and our breakdowns break again.
Short of sevenfold success, winter will bring pain.
My hope: that God will bless our striving, scarce and scant.
At this November's arrival, the count is bleak;
we search for humility; second, we lack truth.
Where is civility? Murder and theft reign uncouth.
For mankind's survival, selfish mayhem we wreak.
Are we connecting the dots of winter's design?
In our bent to fight, peace and patience are displaced;
whereas compassion and foresight we have disgraced,
to deliberate woolgathering we resign.
October 7, 2020
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