Life is a whisper....
the sun spends its winter and the
eastern cottontail cheats predators;
where the purple tailed swallow
hangs her hat evermore and
pale pink camelias grow wild
in the westward mountains,
those characterless silent towers
spring calls home.
Who in the sam hill
could find controversy with this
space time continuum;
in this space,
the only one
we have left.
Still though they are, the angels
mount an insurrection
at 11:18 on the streets of eternity
and monolith-like speakers
broadcast the eulogies
of those left far behind.