Still Life
There is a cold breeze
sifting through the air;
a sleepless silence that passes
by day and night;
trees that remain solid and
firm like a statue;
while their leaves dance to
this breeze... and wind.
This is a still life,
after all.
Shelf Life
Not long before confining myself in this box,
I was out there, sitting in a desk... observing
things: books neatly stacked in one moment,
but checked out the next moment. A woman
dressed in black and light blue, seated and on her
phone; a cubical, a front desk, and three people
moving in silence.
Everything out there changes and waves like
a river at night. But now that I have confined
myself in this box, there is no smell, except
my hand and its touch of smooth wood. The
green and brown grass stands still as the flurries
descend down from this chilled moment.
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