View from Home by David Chorlton

I am not a silent poet

When light runs up the mountain
coyotes pass it coming down.
The last doves fly
and turn to stars; an eyelid closes
across the surface of the pond;
history has run its course
for the day.
…………………..Papers
that were signed are filed away
while those that weren’t
lie restless on a desk
awaiting further study
……………………………………….when clocks
display the time negotiations
resume over war,
displacement and pestilence,
when
………….a carp’s face
breaks still water, and a pen stroke
brings a nation to its knees.

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