I drink alone

Standard

A caress of senses

The dark grounds float in water.

Thoughts turn, in the quiet slanting sunlight.

Sitting alone outside on a bench.

The raven comes to look, turning its head with an obsidian eye.

Almost laugh, the demands of a bit of toast.

The feathered terrorist walks.

Wings out and threatens.

Cup down, bow up.

The arrow chunks into the ground in between

The Feathered Highwayman stops

He has met the Archer

Flight of wisdom.

Bow down

I drink alone.

 

©2015 Dash McCallen

Advertisements

Sail into the harbor of my soul; tell me your heart

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s