In Courting The Black Heart Of Mother Earth Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

Always by the wake of black skies,
being lifted by temperance in hues
of darkest sage, like anthracite,
its' cynical Eye watching angrily,
self-endulging, with wink and guffaw
in the form of lightening and thunder.

Branches like marionettes,
dangling by natures thread,
watch them shake and bristle,
fascination to the human eye,
our proclivity to woo the surreal,
stand and watch the drama unfold,
as if each tree could sense its plight,
and the horror before Natures Death
by sparks of severed bark,
the crack that echoes far and deep-
like a hunter's buckshot that ostensibly-
carries the riding breeze forever.
the thud that elicits scream;
mother natures game of wrath...

And for the wounded, still standing,
green peace is on its' way.
Yet, for others, death just a flash,
from a single crack they never heard,
death by electrocution... is always fast.

Flickering amber lights emerge,
men with hard hats, rubber gloves,
cording off the wood shard carnage
smoldering under moonlit mist,
ushering folks to go home,
the show has dropped it's curtain,
telling us to enjoy the evening,
look forward to a better tomorrow,
and how the hell do we manage that,
someone asks...

Yet, they do so...
but sadly...with a lot less shade,
and a new, surreal landscape,
for they who relied on their friend
to lend them shade on their hottest days
and afforded them decorative solitude.

There may be better day's a coming...
Just not here...




FjR-MMXVII