Thursday, April 17, 2008

West Texas Mythology





On cloud-shrouded nights
darkness suffocates
among the gnarled arms
of mesquite.
Silence disturbed
by wind-rustled seed pods.
Skyborn cold wrestles
earth-warmed radiance.
Imagination abounds,
Folklore is birthed,
Goatmen roam pastures,
Wolves nurture lost infants.
Only dawn unveils the fiction.

2 comments:

Tori said...

As weird as that was I liked it. It felt like Texas so I like it!!

Terri said...

I think you have to have experienced a pasture full of mesquite in the dark to really get it. LOL!