Larry Butler
moment by moment by the loch
the empty swing sways under an old oak
grass shimmers, dead leaves shake
blinding sun flashes off the frozen loch
a swirl of grey smoke blurs the trees
grass shimmers, dead leaves shake
a cool breeze stings your face
a swirl of grey smoke blurs the trees
the whir of a chain saw disturbs the melody
a cool breeze stings your face
your belly grumbles for an early lunch
the whirr of a chain saw disturbs the melody
continuous song from a colony of small birds
your belly grumbles for an early lunch
unperturbed, the deer’s white tails bloom
continuous song from a colony of small birds
a spotty black dog barks away the silent bells
unperturbed, the deer’s white tail’s bloom
imperceptible - east to south - shadows shift
a spotty black dog barks away the silent bells
what makes that crunch-crunch in the bushes?
imperceptible - east to south - shadows shift
beyond reach, a small red ball rests on the ice
what makes that crunch-crunch in the bushes?
the long white grasses bend with the breeze
flying westward, seven geese squawk-squawk
blinding sun flashes off the frozen loch
where you scatter a bunch of pistachio shells
the empty swing sways under an old oak
grass shimmers, dead leaves shake
blinding sun flashes off the frozen loch
a swirl of grey smoke blurs the trees
grass shimmers, dead leaves shake
a cool breeze stings your face
a swirl of grey smoke blurs the trees
the whir of a chain saw disturbs the melody
a cool breeze stings your face
your belly grumbles for an early lunch
the whirr of a chain saw disturbs the melody
continuous song from a colony of small birds
your belly grumbles for an early lunch
unperturbed, the deer’s white tails bloom
continuous song from a colony of small birds
a spotty black dog barks away the silent bells
unperturbed, the deer’s white tail’s bloom
imperceptible - east to south - shadows shift
a spotty black dog barks away the silent bells
what makes that crunch-crunch in the bushes?
imperceptible - east to south - shadows shift
beyond reach, a small red ball rests on the ice
what makes that crunch-crunch in the bushes?
the long white grasses bend with the breeze
flying westward, seven geese squawk-squawk
blinding sun flashes off the frozen loch
where you scatter a bunch of pistachio shells
the empty swing sways under an old oak
Page(s) 41
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