Wednesday, April 27, 2011
The pavement's personality alarms my shrinking bent. Delighting once, then casting gloom, fallen leaves form eyes. Beams from the moon etch hearts on petals fallen from trees. Although earmarked, stamped, and tattooed into cement, it teaches of eternal care. Whispering darts form the unknown into my dullness; a language, a speech, a motion to reach my spiritual ear. His way never falters this lover of men. The tempest of wind forces it's wild way upon a slight branch with lingering leaf. Like a determined martyr with resolute bent, it bends into a proverbial flame. Energy breaks through a crease in the clouds stamping the pavement with another earmark.