Inflammed

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Dear Monty,



Today I was saved by the trees - colour, detail, sun and scent
Heaven sent
Yet in the midst of it - quiet burning

How can a man rescue himself ?

The gold, yellow, copper
The oranges and the reds
The crisp leaves underfoot
The crystal cold water

And yet even being rescued by these - anger still rises

I am a profane man

The drive home from the park
Highlights this heart was formed in the dark
Too slow for some too fast for others
I cave in to the anger displayed through a car window

From peace and joy to a furnace as red as the leaves

Shamed, I sit in the garden
A flock of crows like flying black rags blown by the wind
Flap below the poplar

I watch the light and find salvation in it
Even for a man like me.




Paul.

Comments

  1. Anne Wareham26 October 2015 at 15:01

    Especially, not 'even'. You're human, whether you like it or not.
    Xxx

    ReplyDelete

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