The tablecloth is tired of bearing flowers--
bay windows sick of letting in the sun.
The smooth lawn slopes down, weighed with summer shadows.
In the hedge, the songbirds choke upon their songs.
What can withstand the tall weight of the sky--
the hungry, scythe's blade flashing of the bay?
Clouds stare at clouds, fixed in the sea's blue mirror.
The sailboats are all sailing out to drown.
Copyright 2010-2012 Paul Petrie