Sonbather

· ADRIAN VINO ·

June 24, 2016

 

This sullen brow did splinter sweetly as the sun pulsed perfectly amid
a whining grey expanse. A single fowl beat against the teasing distance.
Bitten by the frosty breath of the morning fog, I laid against the dew-drenched grass and extended eager limbs while my lungs welcomed the morning perfume.

The lake near by.

The hills that sighed.

The lavender looming and conspiring against the smudge of pulsing pinks and clouds to hide the rising son.

O, great commencement, how thou beckoning did ring truly.
I do not cower from the challenge. The clamor from a distant tower.
Eyes of the crane cold and calm.
Ripples near this mortal wronged.
Everything within claims expediency.
The morning star throbs an ancient song.

I bathed in the blood

that sprayed from the gaping neck of
the deer
of the

dawn.

June 27, 2016

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