Rusty hinges. The clanking of the gate.
Icy fingers clutch from the grasses, from those who wait.
Cinching my coat tails I ward them away.
The sunlight warms my spine.
"Not yet," I pray.
Autumn leaves blanket stone and vegetation.
Footfalls stir up a dank ematation.
"Join us," they whisper. "Join us," they say.
A light breeze scatters the pall.
"Not yet ... but not never!" I croak, "Just Not Today!"
MOTO
Photograph is of the Rock of Cashel in Tipperary, Ireland.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
