A knot just here, an aging man
Free to walk the fields at night
And practice self-delusion;
It's of little moment, the moon
A hole above the trees,
Briars clawing sleeves
Bloodthirsty and roaring,
Screech owls serenading voles,
Dogs in tremolo on chains,
Eruptions in the joints, well,
I'm fine, old friend, and you?
copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved
