Author: Steven Robertson

CLUMPs of hills form a natural
AISLE, Earth’s own processional path
POUNDed by rock and rain, its call a
WINCH to pull the heart to itself.

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ABUSE and injustice’s victims find no
FLINT-hard heart in heaven, no
GLAZEd eyes dimmed by indifference, unwilling to
STOOP for the poor in spirit.

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TACIT truths still sing and
WRING every drop of glory that
DWELLs in this world
TODAY.

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SOLAR flares
SHUSH networks
QUELL communications
SHAREd blackout

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DIMLY seen through the smoke,
SHAKY on its legs, the old jukebox plays an oldie but a
GOODY on repeat in a little
BITTY dive bar in the middle of nowhere.

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ZESTY recipes–
STICK of butter is a
GIVEN–
GOODY after goody to eat.

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TIBIA and femur
GRATE without cartilage
FLAKY joints unreliable
MISER of movement

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NUTTY aroma from the forest floor–prime
SNIPE habitat–you’ll need to
REACT quickly or miss out on the
WORST hunting trip in your life.

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SAUCE can complement or cover.
THINK carefully,
TREND toward caution,
AMAZE with simplicity.

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