Oh, Bear, I wait
where violets perch on the edge
of rocks born of
another time,
long-forgotten and buried
in the dark corners
of all that we thought we were but were not.
And with their song morning came, wings in flickering shadows, where trees flipped;
roots and stumps
dead, rotting,
reaching again
for a gauzy sun.
Life escapes
through narrow doors
on a silent path that follows a river with no beginning
or end. Secrets lie wasted on narrow banks
where the truth is washed away, yet it never leaves.
Oh, Bear,
I wait while the sun stands still,
and the daylight passes over the Earth,
alive with blooms shaking in unknowing. Take thy spirit to thee
when you only dream you are dreaming.
Mj Pettengill Copyright © 2023, Daisyfields Press Mj-Generated