The Dark Temple of Midnight

Day is over
work done for the busy

The sun sets upon the dusty landscape.
Trudging through the fields
Sweat of the brow
Backs still bent, they walk.

A scarecrow stretches his corn stalk arms and stares
A raven caws as is his fashion

Near is the nighttime with its dark temple of midnight.

A strange fragrance blows across my nostrils
Sweet, spicy, bold
the breath of summer seeking completion

Fall descends with the orange moon.
Night warps the earth with its cloak of silence
A coverlet of sleep.
Copyright (C) 2009 desertwalker All rights reserved.

Lost

and found

one feather

slightly used

Missing

one bird

one feather

Patterns

The pattern of the conductor

Passion balanced by control

In absolute freedom

Is absolute control

The keeper of expression

The pattern of the writer

The theme

Sacred

Powerful

True

The pattern of man

Bold

Questioning

For-giving

Patterns of life

Silence spills over the rocks

the hard places of the mind

deep at every corner

deep into the cobwebs

Rich in color is the sound that silence makes

Silence is a place of words made manifest