Thursday, November 8, 2007

the rolling echo of cannon fire

when it came time to take your place

concrete cracking hissing heat

awakened the terrible peril of your guardian angels face

causing our half swallowed silhouettes to twinkle in the sun

and all the free hearts around and near us

to breach the silent territories between us

reborn on the snowy streets that forgot us

your half opened eyes spilling sorrow

sent dry flowers to the ground

forming drifts

in endless devotion to all your Autumns

the searching eyes of the season isolates us from this

and sends us through the window as still life

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