Service
Snow-blown drifts as high as buildings dot the landscape.
Icicles slice the air like knives as they plummet to the ground piercing deep into the flesh of the earth.
Defences shored up against the cold and against the enemies as they wander through the streets.
Gloves caked with mud, torn by too many pulls of the trigger.
Dark hands move across the face as time marches forward toward an unreachable goal.
Boots play Souza marches in the dust as dogs slither away into dark alleys.
Watchful eyes are hidden behind flowing skirts and thumbs and fingers cover ears.
Billowing smoke plumes choke both fowl and fauna as buildings are passed by untouched.
Growling stomachs converse with grumbling wheels and teeth are hidden behind parched and cracked lips.
Best dresses and suits are donned for an affair that is not to come.
The dance has already begun but without the music for comfort only sounds of thunder and rain.
Silently creeping air follows the procession out of town and into the distant battlefields.
Hairless shells of opaqueness are worn for the solitary confidence each man gains.
Breath is blown in and out of aching lungs that struggle against the skins of cows and sheep and steel.
Sun-bleached bones lie broken amidst forgotten toys and hats and mud and snow.
The song has ended long ago and the dance is now done.
There is no one left to turn the record over.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry and Random Musings
PoetryI have been writing on and off for 20 years and this is a 2 decade collection of random musings. I can see a time of rhyme and other times of dark poetic thoughts, times of humor and just some plain weirdness from Cowboy boots to Cats to War.
