I hope you like this attempt at capturing Grand ideas and putting them in a poets jar so to speak
I sat on a blade
a picnic pricked my sense
no good coming of it
just plain sense
sailing on life's streams of happen-stance
a crock of gold over the horizon
I sat in the shade
a haze stippled by lense
a creature driven from ditch
to my ankle
its overhang
my drone
its inconsequence.
'when can we leave'?
my daughter asked.
'why would we want to'?
(I thought only of continued magnificence)
Grieve for a moment;
gone
that thought has passed
that which will never last
that which now sits in
eternity's waste paper basket
I love it. (And I really do have a poetry jar filled with great lines, and words that move me. It glows in the dark with the stored creativity of beautiful minds)