Final call


Colliding carelessly with
white wood words of winter
black crows with feathery bets
beats all collectors to the meltdown.

Food is the final call
before predator curtains
fangs their way down
all chains of possible peace.

Ordinary oxygen is more
than just a breath.
Tuition so much more
than just coercion.




Poetry by Bob
Read 634 times
Written on 2006-01-06 at 22:11

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Christian Ward
I loved the metaphor that unfolds here. Great imagery. An enjoyable poem.
2006-01-06