no soul
in high pines
but the constant threat of spring
occurring every other afternoon
Our greatest assets often fail us
as the moon sails between earth and star
leaving a small few of us laughing
why cant things be so easy?
as quiet sinking sky
embarrassing fresh ponderosa
"jeering at the funny animal"
we view the vantage point with retribution
maybe longing for flood
while the sick color of the moon
invokes in each
a selfish revolution