Speeding down a road
that ends somewhere in the middle of
my mind. I get out and wander through
fields of unfamiliar places
that burn my senses.
I stand there unconcerned with
objects that seem dazzling.
Images roll by like a movie
being played. Images representing
things that I can’t understand.
Things of Nature
I have seen peculiar sights
in the night.
Trees falling then getting back up again
while a dog gets scared at unseen
things of nature.
I heard things that sensitive ears
can’t comprehend. Thunder claps
that explode in a staccato beat.
Birds quiet one minute then talking
the next, in a language that I wasn’t
Walking in the cold air
barefooted on a beaten path.
A dog follows along undeterred
by the weather.
Winds whip and cover the landscape
while mist envelops the surrounding.
Clouds cover the sky like
Trees congregate like strangers at a party
in a forest of brown and green.
The walk is long as the time
David Stillwagon writes short stories and poems. He has poetry forthcoming in Foliate Oak and Right Hand Pointing as well as poems in Clockwise Cat and Lit-up magazines. He has also had short stories in Johnny America and Mississippi Crow.