Estate Sale
They stand
in line,
waiting for the doors to open.
Pohte vultures, victim
is
patient.
The
already dead.
The pieces of his
life
are inside,
everything marked and tagged. All to be had for a price.
And
the birds wait,
chatting happily, and hoping they'll get the choicest piece.
by Eve Parker
True Colors Autumn
colors...
Deepening before they
fall
Yellow, brown, crimson, red
Descending one. descending
Tom And
from
life,
now
left as
all,
dead
disconnected from the Vine,
Parted from the blood, the Life,
Without the
They
No
Spirit's
wither, as
if
sap divine.
cut by knife.
two-edged Sword has cut them down.
The Tree did not push them away. But with no desire for the crown
They have
abscised, not to stay.
By
22
Erik Mundall