A
lone petunia standing proudly between
a
prison of weeds, relaxed, not rattled.
Weeds
ruffled taunting the petunia to
give
into the bellows of the tyrannical force
Pickled
beyond recognition in their harshness.
A
precocious persimmon begins its new life
on
the branch of the ebony wood family,
ebony,
dark, prevailing, and mysterious.
Shadows
lurk amongst the dusk,
swaying
long branches, hosting secrets.
A
snake slithers in and out of the thick patch
of
a pencil thin layer of dead spiders, bugs and
small
rodents serving as fertilizer
for
the ebony stronghold and its peers.
The
snake wriggled free from the trail of death.
The
persimmon taps the branch quietly
to
warn the petunia of looming danger.
The
snake is deterred by a dog, running.
The
flower is rescued and reveled in its
newly
found freedom amid its weed sanctuary.
A
hand rifled through the leaves
of
the ebony fortress, rests a moment.
Breaths
a grateful sigh as the hand retreats,
celebrating
another day on this earthly plane.
The
petunia and persimmon nod knowingly.
Darkness
blankets the grassy meadow.
Slumber
interrupted by a nightmare.
A
long shiny knife with jagged edges
pierces
through the soft flesh,
exposing
a red, asterisk center.
By Sharon Brunner
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