A ripple in the melody (Edit 1)

[serge gurkski]

The month is march. The dead grasses
catch with the sun and so do the hibernated
tree's. They are coming back around through
there cycles. I watch the bee's zip and glide
in the air. They slowly hover above flowers and
blackberry bushes, touching the surface,
barely landing upon the bud or fruit.
Buzzards circle in the air over a dead carcass.

Time seems to stop as I slowly descend into
madness. I say this because, I have been
circling a weeping willow tree with an ax in
hand.

I would like to chop at one of the branches
so it would stand crookedly to the left.
But, I am in no chopping mood.
The ants march up and down the grass blades.
Grasshoppers jump around in what looks like
a symphony of sequenced leaps.
Noise comes from the mocking birds as they mock
other's. Well house pump clicks on and chatters for
awhile and clicks off leaving me with thoughts that
wander like a blue tick picking up the scent of rabbit.
What have I done today?
Circling the weeping willow with an ax in hand, I swing
hard and fast where I connect with soft wood.
I repeat the action till I have cut loose the branch.
It falls to the ground like my Spirit. My Spirit like
a dirt road in a rear view mirror.
Scattered and dusty.
Slowly I pull away the branch while the wind drags
away my flesh.

Hi RC,
I loik it ;-
You have typos but I'll leave the cndescending mock editiing to the natives.

Indeed your message comes across (to me). It is is beautifully mad.

(agree of course with AJ, queen-bee of cider's ( ;-) remarks.

the title: very catchy IMHO

thank yoou for the red
have a fine day
cheers and poof


serge