She slumps in sleep
Paws clasped prayer-like
Dream-dozing eyelids a-simmer

A spasm-triggered flesh flick
An ear-alert to a tremorous tick
Crisp-dry nose with involuntary sniff
Old dog breath brewing brown toothed whiff

With pain weary grunt
She heaves her lumpy bulk
Onto shaky splayed legs
That hobble and limp

Catches my eye
With a puppy-pleased glint

Wags

.... and pees

Beech trees like cathedral pillars soar
To vaulted ceilings oozing dapple-green,
Where twinkling sunlight, filtering to the floor
Dilutes the dusky darkness in between.

A concert hall, acoustically tuned
To amplify each tremorous touch of stick
On wood, where silent magic is cocooned,
Responding to the scuffled tap and tick

From scrunching undergrowth, where dusty death
And dried decay seep back to nature’s store,
To resuscitate with pungent earthy breath
The spirit of the leafy forest floor.

the vertigo of dwarves--

seven bites into a snowy

apple.

caramelizing dusk.

a full viewing.

her overslept perfection.

her eyelashes flaking off

tremorous go betweens.

her cheeks, rash & unapplied

blush--what's soup to winter.

or what feigns the circulature  

of a latter stir.

As you see the sun uphold your own gaze,
you can't help but look away.
Keep staring into that
hushed, blinding abyss
and you lose what you had
not but a second before.
Macbeth had the "Milke of human-kindness"
hidden within until he looked unto his wife,
who prominently stripped it from him,
same as Mrs. Dashwood completely swallowed whole
any forgiving sense of charity in Mr. Dashwood
upon "Sense and Sensibility".
Don't look to the sun, nor hold it's tremorous gaze
for these reasons.
Greed makes us think past ourselves
and into a part that you've never recognized.
It bubbles towards fear and turmoil,
yet you can't drive down this greed.
Therefore,
don't hold the gaze of the sun.