in between

flames of the hearth no more i crave
no coiled serpents glowing in a rave
no more seek their red glowing eyes
reinstantiated sundrops in disguise

two waves of gentry made the scene
now they produce their pod and bean
new migrants peck and pluck and preen
now all is calm, all is serene

behold the glorious in between
sacred yet so seldom seen
all hail the zone that draws the flocks
the holy realm of goldilocks

soon the summer solstice knocks
unleash the river styx’s locks
then months of hot brimstone walks
on endless miles of flaming rocks

behold the glorious in between
sacred yet so seldom seen
all hail the zone that draws the flocks
the holy realm of goldilocks

upon my thumb i cast an eye
thumbnail stared back and asked me why
behold my tiny shield of armor
guards against errant hammer

do i trust the work of these fingers
when pangs of pain still there lingers
there’s hit, and miss, and in between
vast in between that remains unseen

chords and chorus a flaccid joke
need to reign this in, coax the yoke
work it to a fine polished sheen
listen for nuance in between

call out to all the trees of yore
what might this story have in store
ask each mighty canyon baobab
each patch of land the banyans grab

girth of trunk and surface barky
the shade of each tree’s canopy
lifetimes of wisdom they reveal
yet many secrets still conceal

hidden in nests and liana
rich with arboreal arcana
ages-earned saga and sutra
precipitate as rain of manna

never a moment truly quiescent
dynamic symphony luminescent
when the yellows’ bounteous blooms are spent
the cacti take charge and will not relent

a longer winter made you glummer
cue the practiced perfectionist of summer
extremist and reductionist muddle away
while other seek a middle way

the messages in water are clear
the riddles of crisp air so clear
it is the extremes we crave and fear
and the in between we hold so dear

behold the glorious in between
sacred yet so seldom seen
all hail the zone that draws the flocks
the holy realm of goldilocks

so easy to ignore the signs of trouble
breathe the last breath within the bubble
fail to marvel at our dynamic bauble
to disrespect this big blue marble

bring on the glorious in between
sacred yet so seldom seen
preserve the zone that draws the flocks
the holy realm of goldilocks

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About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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