Even now

Photo by Sue Vincent for her weekly #writephoto prompt

Sunlight cascades through clouds,
pushing to earth, demanding to find land
no matter the season. Two trees
separated by brown grass and silence
ache for warmth or a melting touch
of companionship or at least life
to interrupt the isolation.

But still the light comes, through clouds
or night or some other wretched evil
may obscure its beauty, a veil
they’ll shirk today
or tomorrow or some other blissful day.

We need only remind ourselves
tree branches do not stay empty,
nor birds quiet, nor the world dull
and hateful. Monstrous monotony may
move us to seclusion
alone through the trees. Its end nears
even now.


Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019

Written for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt. Read all the other responses at her Daily Echo!


Shell

I’ll not wake up, no,
swimming here in this conch shell
of a life, shadows tickling my ear,
playing house while the real
world assumes it’s won.

I’ll not confront it, no,
kicking up the remains of reality
swept under expensive furniture
when we could afford the luxury
of not caring.

I’ll remain in my head,
enveloped by this conch shell,
closed to those sounds desperate
to encroach, honking displeasure
at deaf eyes shut.


(c) 2019 Phillip Knight Scott

Written in response to the Sunday Muse #68 photo and the Ragtag Daily Prompt: Wake.

Photography by Edouard Boubat