An Unplanned Siesta

Again, I find myself

Standing at a crossroads,

Pondering directions.

Unsure which path to take.

Should I? Could I? Perhaps?

~

The sun is overhead.

At the roadside, flowers.

Birdsong lilts from afar.

Wheat heads rustle nearer.

~

It’s been a long journey,

Full of rush and bother,

That led me to this place.

~

Beside these thoroughfares

I shall pause, breathe, relax.

~

There’s time for a siesta.

Evensong

Shrill

Inarticulate warbles

Muted in passage through walls

And woods.

Anger

Understood by tone

And cadence long before

Any sound clarifies to coherent

Words

Heat

Beat

hasty

Retreat

Words

Pulse

Thrumming temples

Dread descends with every step

Upward to that door

Where home fires burn

Doorknob

Chill beneath palm

Hand lingers

Warming brass

As crass language

And rage harass

His tired dragging ass

Inhalation

Exhalation

Knob turning

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