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.

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.

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

SOLAR flares
SHUSH networks
QUELL communications
SHAREd blackout

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.

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

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

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.

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