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written by: Lance Sheridan
Black cloth i saw flying in redden rain
flapping wings laden, beckoning
the tree held together with paper and
bark. …it awaited the saw of men;
black night straying, straying towards
the cloth of dark; rain has its foot
on the neck of the crow. …arrogant rain.
Lo! the swollen creek, no more of drink
for the thirsty crow, the rain drank
and it drank till there was no more to drink;
i heard the voice of black cloth
arising, demanding solace. …be you
immovable where you stand, i
thought; i isolated myself in thought.
The crow, substance of earth, water, trees,
redden rain laden plunged into the
creek, red tide to the sea. …through the
pasturage, the cottonwood died; i
sat alone, rejected everything, rejected
nothing. …nothing is sinful; i saw
black cloth dying, dying with flapping wings.
Copyright © lance sheridan®
The Mind[less] Muse
Poised in Flight
Poetry Super Highway
International Poetry Anthology
I’m sarcastic, have an offbeat sense of humor, a purveyor of words and imagery, love music, read, drink coffee, exercise, dislike ruffians.