narrative

there is
a narrative in rock
erosions of history in lines
striated faces at the wild world’s edge
lines seldom spoken
not a word for
anything
alive

mother nature’s message
of growth and change
of existence and co-existence
is already written on cascading sky
already contained in the fine rain of our becoming
forever whispered in the endless wind
that blows across
everything

© BH, 2019

---

A fragment of something else, ditched for later consideration. Here it is polished. A brief flourish. No more…