Frog jumps a solitary jump,
he pauses then
as if planning move from A to B,
then aimlessly he jumps again.
Neath him lays a fall of autumn leaves,
all crisp and dry a brittleness. In some,
decay leaves naught but a skeleton of arid veins,
a remnant of a long lost summer.
She sees all this and dwells on it,
dwells on death decay and indecision.
(Then) black dog of night gives way to mist of morn,
a hovering of almost calm,
and she decision made,
makes incisions cross her wrists
and bathes herself in blood red warmth,
she a remnant of a long lost summer.
Shared with the good folk at dVerse OLN, today hosted by the most excellent Björn - cheers Björn!
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author: Randi Hausken