Musings of a roaming nature nerd

Between Bravo and Yankee

Ravens wheel and talk

in a language as foreign

as the military jargon from the radio.


The ocean laps at the ridge lines

as a cold dense fog.


Voices of grasshoppers

become sparrows

with a flutter of feathered wings.


From the ridge

military men, tiny as toys below

play games for a very real war.


Blackened grass and sage

scent the air like a smudge stick.


Spiders lie in wait

in tunnels of silk and dew drops,

both predator and prey.


Between the ridges

clouds drift

ravens drift

minds drift.

One Response

  1. Dad

    I like the contrasts you set up, man and beast! Nicely done. :-)

    May 3, 2012 at 4:53 pm