On an April Morning

He is coming. Haunting.
And the earth dwells with it
knowing.
The pencil stilled.
And my mind lays silent,
Hushed in tones of greys and beige.
Decomposing thoughts in the undergrowth.

I do not know - I know.
Then I lay out words
upon a wood table in greenery.
Files and tabs-
to choose what golden verb
will arise to melt the hour
the minute the apparition appears.




Shelley Rae Bell

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