i saw the rising of the Sun; felt the warmth.
the Sun was frowning; sad already, for the day.

clouds moved in; sunshine bounced-back to Jupiter;
our Sun pouted, was he not the strongest of all?
a lone chisler, chisle and hammer in hand, pings
away at the last petrified cloud; at last a puff.

a wind blew the tiniest chips away, into the wind.
the chisler shifted like Sitting Bull at a pow-wow;

his steadyness impressed the cosmos; steady is
as steady does; soon, in aeons, the chisler wins.
the clouds will melt into the seas of angst;
a roiling ocean crest will keep all down and quiet.

and my apples are falling up, into the ether, becoming
a cider to be drunk at the behest of walkers of the earth.

04/27/2010

Posted on 04/27/2010
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