Old comic book anthologies on my left hand,
New unproven medicines at my waiting right.
Time flows away like falling sand,
Moon covering clouds fade in rosy light.
Light ageless, untainted, pure,
Showing each ash leaf, each rabbitbrush flower
As it stood on some first morning, ethereal, sure.
Breeze hushed in gathering light, filled with power.
Beneath it all the plague still racing,
Jaguars stalk the night, bring sleep
To old horses, church song and bull fight erasing.
Old monsters stirring, rise from the deep.
Author: Duncan MacNae
Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees.
duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com
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