De Nihilo Nihil
QuailBellMagazine.com
seldom fail to disappoint,
nor do they venture a crossing,
of that sentimental reservoir
which has, by now, shed its thick and dead ice sheet:
It was just about sunset,
as curious, black specks
began to coagulate on the horizon.
A wizened grandmother,
all too aware of what was upon them,
called out frantically
to her "newer," idiot kin,
the pet name given to her grandson.
"Make yourself scarce, child!
To the basement,
lest those crows come looking
to feast on your eyes!"
Alas,
the youth's squeals of joy,
spawned by a run
through the western field,
did well to drown out
her good intentions.
Dura lex, sed lex.