Silence, peaceful tranquility
Softly the moon descends the night sky
Carried low on the horizon by the thinnest arc
–of gilded underline.

Flowered trees line the dark streets
–in hushed hues at each side,
Muting their movements in the early spring air.
Stars glisten in their quiet night, but
Fresh blood pools wet and thick and red
–‘neath the rabbit in the headlight.

To survive the winter
To be cut down in spring
Is silence absent peaceful tranquility,
–absent reason.

Copyright © by Benjamin Keay 2011 – All rights reserved.


About waronliteracy

Storyteller, teacher, author of "Perfect Solution" and "Dire Requisite," I stand alone in the aftermath of the war on literacy, looking for other survivors ... we are out there ... somewhere.
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