What Changed?
Poem
Published in
Dec 15, 2020
Ain’t the gods
Stretched on the pantheon
Planting magical seeds
From the flesh of
Rotten beings.
Ain’t the sullen sun
Burning upon
Itself to destruction.
Could be the slow
Slumber of birds chitter chattering
On Sunday mornings.
Guess it was the wind dancing upon
The invisible fabric
That which units all things.
Probably none or all of them.
Whatever it was,
A smile of perfection came
Upon the salted dessert.
