Boulevards of Attrition

Blame for the blameless, one could suppose

cats in trees

fish in a barrel

akin to ‘train-wreck’ dogs.

Descendants of, ‘I am sorry.’

Boulevards of attrition.

Dare I cross the alley?

Tripping over fault lines, should I make a fair-haired decision

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What of these…

fruitless linear revisions…

two squirrels for one dove

a common bird for a cardinal’s love

Comeliness beholds beauty in a rainbow’s spectrum

Essence travels on in its constitution.

 

Jealous is the Journey

Dug deep in the contrast of maple and mud, life is simply a country lane,

not often remembered, as frost heaves discourage thoughts of beauty.

Repeatedly sullied by abuse and neglect.

Ancient the way…to easier lost than found.

If a traveler does not want for much…they won’t be discouraged..

A dirt road can be a jealous journey when traveled alone.

How self-induced echos offer wicked ways to a lonely destination.

 

Naturalist Christmas

 

 

No way to know these woods well, to assume, they are my friends.

No way to examine sacrificed buildings,

to know if they have a hand to lend.

While routine holds fast to my wandering eye.

The purist in me believes, it is my love for recanted beauty that will get me by.

Long lasting and languid, as a lover’s kiss.

A slumbering, lumbering, shine.

Such as coffee, in my morning cup.

So, what of devotion offering a look up?

Freedom of thought.

Offerings mature in shredded leaf.

Matted frost prints, two feet, several precious paws.

Hints of frankincense from a misguided thaw.

There is no ambiguity between the rock and dust that is chilled in a worn path.

The floating heavens did not force my hand.

It is but grace that brought me here.

It is with grace I hope to hold that affinity dear.

 

 

 

 

 

Beauty is Ugly. Ugly is Beauty

I do not travel with a camera of great expense.  I do not travel with gadgets to improve the photographic experience.  I travel for the experience.