birds.

remember?,
drawing them
against white skies,
two lines
graffited,
an awe
to the kids we were...?

i really
love birds,
their chirping a
winged colourway.

early morning,
a robin,
dark orange chest,
dead,
laying there,
on the door step.

i never remember
that birds do die
and their flight.

night fell,

clouds
crowding
a tumultuous sky.

in the darkening far,
houses alight into homes.

near, top of the hill,
bells await
enrobed
in the lit silence
of the tower,
lighthouse
in a darkening dark.

time
will pass by,
hurrying,
carried by the
echoed ringing
into a dissipated horizon.

far, far,
the stroke,
the echo,

reverberations
cradling
some melody
on loneliness.

Dawn,
birthing the world.

Light and dark,
the color hue
- hills and plains,
trees and gardens
and roads and country roads
and old cored places
and not so old ones.

Breeze,
warmness,
cold,
shivers
and melancholy.

Just it all.
Inhaling it.
Figuring it
as a last sight,
exhaling.

dystopian land,
the kingdom
of selffullness service,

the place
to grow
heroic egos

or

cursings
on regrets.

service
by one's pleasure.

instantaneous and soluble,
for reality dissolution.