Eonian Mode

Though the wind laments in fits 
And starts betwixt silences, 

Still its song remains one 
Long—nay—endless 

Sigh. 

Looking Backward

Of course you know one foot goes 
Before the other but what if 

You say it led you the other way? 

Telltale

All told 

The townsfolk sometimes tell time 
By the toll of the town clock bell; 

All save one tell one’s time’s up 
By the church bell’s telling 

Toll, toll, toll. 

After the Fall

Where the remains of the stock had come 
To rest, there no longer gathered a congress

Of crickets whose sole lot in life was 
To sing while stripping it  

Unceremoniously bare. 

Loopholes

Quick, quick, tie those loose ends up— 
You don’t want them to know who 

Those dangling legs belong to. . . . . . .