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Ice is eccentric-
it beautifies the ugly in hostility. 
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The rabble in the crowded square had waited for their lord to speak to bring them from their deep despair. His majesty was well aware that enemies abroad would seek the rabble in the crowded square. The lord appeared, so debonair, and cheers became a growing pique to bring them from their deep despair. The beggars jeered the staid affair, and soon they joined with harsh critique the rabble in the crowded square. The lord began his evening prayer and pleaded, commerce was so bleak, to bring them from their deep despair. And then the lord removed his stare, and asked, with sober, blushing cheek, the rabble in the crowded square to bring them from their deep despair. 
It always looks serene, a
Lazy, cool expanse of graceful blue, Content to lull in sleep while Strolling in and out of deepened hue. A downpour in Chelan will Start accumulation of a spate, While gathering flows meet, Surging as the river shores await. The farmland and town folk, Unaware of torrents that draw near, Still trust the sleeping giant Blind to nature in this tamed frontier. Columbia's slumber, Broken from its gentle, drifting flow, Now fifteen miles of flood, all Hope of saving crops lost long ago. When waters recede, and Widespread work repairs the soaked terrain, The farmers are compelled to Build again so family ties remain. And so the giant sleeps, with Sense of local urgency elapsed, Content with being dormant, Waiting for the flood plane's next collapse. 
Now that sunset has begun, hues make ordinary grand, I must ponder at each one, contemplating as I stand- red horizon's setting sun, rising for the distant land. I must ponder at each one, contemplating, as I stand, light diminished 'til there's none, day forgotten out of hand, red horizon's setting sun, rising for the distant land. Light diminished 'til there's none, day forgotten out of hand, what I've lost, some others won, much as tides return the sand, red horizon's setting sun, rising for the distant land. What I've lost, some others won, much as tides return the sand, yin and yang, the world has spun, darkness there will now remand, red horizon's setting sun, rising for the distant land. 
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AuthorJack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana. Archives
April 2019
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