Thursday, February 21, 2013

Passing through South Park at Sundown




The bare black branches do not keep pace as I walk along the street. The closer to me, the faster.  The nearer the horizon, they appear about to turn and watch what I am seeing. Through this irregular moving fireplace screen, a spherical fire, hardly moving to my naked eye, reflects on the undersides of dull gray clouds, glowing as sweet as fresh squeezed orange juice. But I cannot pause, I have carrots and potatoes to cut for a stew, and this man cannot live by astonishment alone.

The bare black branches
do not keep pace
as I walk along the street.
The closer to me,
the faster. 
The nearer the horizon,
they slow and appear about to turn
and watch what I am seeing.
Through this irregular moving fireplace screen,
a spherical fire, hardly moving to my naked eye,
reflects on the undersides of dull gray clouds,
glowing as sweet as fresh squeezed orange juice.
But I cannot pause, I have carrots and potatoes to cut for a stew,
and this man cannot live by astonishment alone.

The bare black branches do not keep pace as I walk ...

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