The specks
On my windshield
Remind me
Revel in this experience
But at the edge
Brief silhouette
As sunlight rages
And resists
It carries on
Through lands unmarked
To where I cannot be
Though straight it drives
‘Cross many miles
It never does arrive
I love also this frozen range
Its crystalline air
With a cutting wind
Driving the storm my way
Stealing my breath
A vulnerable solitude
Presence
Aware, active vigilance
If only I had the eyes
Of old father time
I could see the rock raging
Dropping aeons of boulders
Upon the valley floor
Like hailstones
From sandstone clouds
I am transported
To other worlds
To other dreams
To other insights
I learn my bounds
Then extend them
Beyond what I’d known
Or even dreamed possible
One sunny Sunday
Death came to my smithy
In his shroud of black
Trailing a shadow, like blood
Spilt on the butcher’s floor
Your time has come.
Said Death
What say you?
I am not ready, Ancient One.
So say they all.
Pix to Words 