Muted Hesiod

A kite string has pulled against my palm
The singing call over the Ruby Red above
A misty sprawl shaped cotton cloud
The festival of unknown Psalms
Young leaves over where blood freely flowed
Thieves on the high-road
A broken grasp shaped of bronze
The free hand now an ode

Night drive

Thunder overnight
Left out as I drive
The slickness of tar
Lost to sight
Heart and Mind
Among the leaves
Road through the mountains
A hidden sunset
Among embracing trees
A countdown
To a simple blossom
Under nightfall
The glistening world
A fishbowl

Sol Invictus

Was there ever a summer day
So dry and etched in sunlight

That it made you want to rip away
The doors and windows off their hinges

A day so cool under the green canopy
The road sides bursting with wild flowers

That you felt like breaking ever glass tower
Freeing their prisoners so they could go out

Arms shading their eyes turned to the blue and white
Squinting under the unconquered Sun