It's Still Life

Leaving …

behind the silence of trees
and spiders spinning threads
of silver,

and winter frost on grass
with dewdrops that glitter.
To feel

the cold rabble and trample
of the North’s open window.
To feel sudden

breathlessness and drift
into deep sleep, into
unconsciousness.

It was a dove eager to leave
its wings and flesh
behind.

It was a dove who fell
to ground like an old
garment.

Written for PAD (Poem-a-Day Challenge) Day 1 with Prompt: “Before You Leave 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.