By Sharon
Brunner
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.
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