On my morning Stroll again the air is heavy
impenetrable thickets of humidity and mist
The gravel underneath me cracks ready to cave in
Concave burial for my feet I need to rest
On the lawn where i must wait
There is always one little blue ant
Nibbling at the decomposing skin of an apple
Devouring the essence
It carries away with it something
for this warm morning
a star DID shine
With this now i know why i write
the things i do about you in pencil.
I walked again this morning this time the air has stopped
A mass of red abdomens lurk over the gravel
and underneath there is an earth quake
The red ants snatched the apple leaving the one blue
and i wonder if i could crush such a force
without you