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| Curbar Edge by Les Wilcockson |
Brief conversations in wild arias sung in ancient voices
where grass and heather whisper the echoes of the wind on the horizon.
The lothario lover
used to stand on that rock recalled heather aromatically
Even stone can smile in thoughts of love when the young
alpha chased his damsel for a kiss.
Their pups would
frolic in twilight, their play watched only by the wild hills grass murmured in
its memory
And the stone sighed, recalling the coming of Man in a stench of death and extinction.
Winds howled, their
sorrow too much to bear
Yet ears that do not listen only hear silence.
© JG Farmer 2013
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