"One Morning's Battle"

Thomas P. Antone


Miles from home,
Alone,
Sitting on a cliff overlooking the bay
On a pre-technological-moonshadow-night
When to a question posed by an owl
I felt obliged to reply.
Thomas P Antone!

The owl seemed satisfied

Suddenly,
The urge to light up an Export
Was quelled by a message given off by the flame

Stone-still a sponge
I lay back on the grass
For a private performance
Of the Northern Lights.

And in time
In total darkness,
The song of the birds
In perfect fourths,
Seemed to summon the sun

The mist
Held firmly
For a time
Against the Spartan-Spears
Of fiery red rays

When the attack grew fierce,
The mist began its slow retreat.
And there I sat
The only witness
To the raging battle
Thinking of Thoreau



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