Squint. Sometimes It Is Nessesary To Gain Focus.

I didn’t want to.

Eyes wide open toward the sun.

The gold had thinned out

toward the deep blue of forever.

Where was the end of it?

Sculpted clouds insisted I look away,

their majesty butting in with finite beauty.

Grey smudges in and around fine lines.

I was driving toward the end of day

but I didn’t want to.

Photo: Thunderstorm at sunset

I pulled over and waited.

The gravel road ceased its grumbling.

Trees, like sentries, stood attentive.

The End of Days walked

my way and took my hand.

His eyes, like the sun, shone a path

before us and a finger pointed up

to the blue eternity.

I saw with a squint

the joy of true friendship.

I still feel an arm around my shoulder.

beautiful photos - beautiful pictures  - красивые фотографии


Monday Mourning, After the Sun Went Down.

It is another Monday.

Most of the out-of-towners

have gone back to their life.


My son and I watched

a blood orange sun

disappear beyond the edge

of the earth.

Near the end

it appeared bigger

and sunk faster.


It was like the death

of my mother.

At the end we stared.

We counted her

freckles and wrinkles

and the rise and fall of her chest.


At the time it seemed like eternity,

but now the memory is a short journal entry.

It is like taking out a granite tablet

and jotting down her life in a sentence.


The beauty was fleeting

and we wanted to touch it.

There was once a big moon

as big as a get-well balloon.

There was a big sun

as big as a farewell.


© Gerald Allen Barrett and parentheticallyspeakingin3d, 2012.