The Edges of Abysses

When finally we swing round and gaze back
over our own geography, no longer mistaking
the map for the territory - we realize how much
we've skirted our abysses, ignorant of all those
fluky near misses. Conspicuous fissures were
easy enough to eschew, unless of course they
just appeared out of the blue. We should esteem
such close shaves; and what's more - dance
and play over them, allay all dizziness at the
edges of all abysses, being remiss if we didn't
deepen our bliss by digesting our own distresses.

The German Shepherd

Those pricked ears!
As if a switch
had been instantly
flipped. So quick!
And his frame
so suddenly stiff.
Amazing, how he can
pick up a whiff or
catch a glimpse before
your heart can even skip,
or your face flinch.

Sotto Voce

Words overused lose their gravitas.
When they resound too loudly they can reach
escape velocity and become ungrounded,
unbound from any bona fide attitude,
propelled beyond all reasonable altitudes.
Thus denuded of sense, theses lose all thrust,
lacking soundness or sufficient defense.

Hark

Not sparks
from the central fire -
more akin to
meadowlarks,
feathered beings not
tethered to sin -
that verdict of
one god's fiery ire.

A Cocksure Crow

A coal-black crow squats atop a fence post,
croaking his taunts down upon the dogs
sequestered in the yard. It must be hard,
between all the barking and the braying,
when neither knows what the other's saying.

A Murder of Crows

A murder of crows batters a small sparrow hawk -
madder than they and even better at escaping.
It only craves its prey so it can survive another day.
It's always been this way. The hawk doesn't betray
its inborn nature any more than they: each day
it has its role to play in the everlasting ebb and spate.
And the human looks on in awe, wonder, and dismay;
but in the same moment all human concerns fall away.