It's Still Life

A Stark Hand

I am in the strange hands of wind
that reach the cliffs and pebble beach.

I have come here
to hear the voice of time’s sentinel,
its sun-washed ancient secrets.

Tell me of your lost lore,
what guards your stark hand so well.

I turn my face to the sky
where by day stars are hidden blind.
What forbidden darkness
wrinkles the blue sky.

What name
shall I give this testing fate,
this barely shine of sight,
this gradual browning.

But for now and ever’morrow,
I shall be in strange hands of wind.

Written for Miz Quickly’s Day 21 “Demand Something”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.