adventures in dysthymia

Friday, September 19, 2008

BONES

You have become bleached islands,
hidden in a mist of green and brown.

Last spring, I would look away;
you were a stench at road side.

Will your bones still say 'deer'
next summer, amid the high grasses?

Stephen Brooke ©2008

Sort of in a sijo form, though it's not 'really' one. I noticed the bones as I was mowing the field this morning, the bones of a road-kill deer from earlier this year. Some dogs (or maybe coyotes) must have carried them up out of the ditch and left them.

1 comment:

Bob said...

Really good, I like this one a lot.