A Man, Amend, Amen Poem by Arthor Journer

Wilted by the weight of time,
Wrinkles form where once dreams were.
Prayers cover him blanket his arctic circles,
Broken and restored by love.
He sits on the porch or by the window his front seat to the world.
Cataracts alter his vision of the day,
Distant shadows of friends block his mind from the sun.
The silent sky is dreadfully still,
Then there is a whisper of wind,
To a man.

Leaves leap from the grasp of trees,
Leaving the arms barren and naked.
Blanketing the ground in yellow and orange,
Abandoned and betrayed by time.
They rest dying on the earth transforming into dry brownness.
Chlorophyll, a dream of yesterdays,
Secluded clouds shroud the world from the sun.
The ground is terribly still,
Then there is a murmur of wind,
To amend.

Dried soil forgotten by seasons of green,
Creased by the movement of breezes.
Entreaties expound beyond the limits of limbs,
Embraced and cherished by life.
They dance in the earth and on the windows,
Copulation of hope and tomorrows,
Sheltered secrets open the vaults of warmth from the sun.
The hushed sky is awfully still,
Then there is a rumor of wind,
Amen.
Amen.