Spelunking

Rebecca Nenow
used with permission

In the days of the cave

our flesh ruled us

biorhythmically.

Obedient to the whims

of endocrine, we panted

beside the fire,

our shadows knotted together

on the over-hang of rock.

We knew the beat of drums

pulsating heartfall,

pounding footfall,

euphoric with mushrooms,

spirit-walking.

Always the grasping fear,

and snarling teeth

ready to rip the darkness

to shreds and devour

mindfulness.

In the days of the cave,

where we lived

just yesterday.

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Artistic Interpretation with Margaret features several artworks created using white Prisma colored pencil on black paper.

Autumn Prelude

Autumn Forest ~ Max Slevogt (1907)
WikiPaintings.org

I

The weather has turned.

A wind came sneaking in, blew

away the too hot noon

and left a bitterness upon my tongue.

The taste remains

of burning leaves; smoke

the colour of old photographs

trickles up the sky;

a solitary bird is flung

from the frenzied branch

of a blue-gum tree

and flies free

of shadows.

II

It rained all through the night

and deep into morning,

drops coldly dripping

mingling small sorrows with dust

and plastering dried leaves

to slick rooftops.

The tread of footsteps on the sidewalk

falters around puddles.

Her head bends

to keep the rain from her eyes,

shoulders drooping

under the weight of wool

now sodden, tired

from bearing up through days

stained grey.

III

Swallows know the time to leave

and you watch them,

you, who must abide the Winter

endure the drear cold days,

as possibilities frost over

in your dying garden.

Once, perhaps, you planned

your starting over speech,

and knew what would be left behind

but now the years hang upon

your branches like icicles

and your eyes are bleary, strained

from staring at the sky.

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Part I of this prelude was linked to Wednesday Challenge ~ The Prelude.