PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

His was a warm world with bare trees,

temporarily exposed by

the branches, in their nudity,

and the unseasoned sun that peaks

between the tottering gray clouds.

He drove through a bulldozed ravine,

condemned to stillness by concrete,

but overgrown in its dull spite.

He was afforded a clear view

into where the denizens dwell;

these wild and four-legged tufts

of matted fur, with big, wet eyes

that go dry when dying, roadside -

only to be granted respite

when cast into the yawning ditch

by modern whirligigs dyed black.

He avoided a porcine corpse

and briefly thought to wish it well,

but if there is no hell for humans,

there must be no rest for the beasts.

And so he continued driving.