Burden

A manmade nook

A flicker of frost in a feisty forest

Always am I fond of the rickety ballad this

Astral tower plays

Always prepared to collapse from that

Misdeed

Frightful, the orange crisp has taken its course

Falling,

Fluttering over the forest floor, I am

Marked with Splinters

Never would I have taken if not for this aerie,

I am

Fawning above this abhorrent turbulent water

Yet it rushes, mucky

Yacking at the beavers and the minnows and the

trout

Not young in its manmade vice

I’m too human to harbor it,

I think it’s time for me to leave.

As I fall from the grace of this ladder

I remember that he will always fall

From the grace of this world

This place.

A watchtower rotting, so am I

He’d think that is beautiful.