bleached bones
2006-04-04 - 10:45 p.m.

before/after
strangely non-functional guestbook

Today I wonder if the wind knew I loved it.

I sat and ate my daily lunch

on a deserted dirt road

by a pile of bleached picked clean deer bones.

the wind rushed through the trees and

made them batter each other senseless.

the wind, wooshed by my car as I sat

with my hat on

my window open in the lee,

I sat with benevolence

knowing the limits of it all,

feeling the beauty,

not seeing it,

being part of something greater than me,

alone.

the winds ferocity did not scare me.

the bones lay unto themselves,

accusing no one,

but accusing us all,

with white wire tied around their bony necks.

i loved the wind,

with its elegaic sound of senseless fury.

the tick tock of the clock

called me away,

but let me feel, if just for this fleeting moment

the glorious joy

of simply being,