Out on the Serpentine [poema]

I walk the serpentine
Path where dust settles
Late and yellowjackets prey
On bones left standing in
The middle of the road

I walk the ages
Past where Gypsies camp
Back in the pale shadows
Of summer slowly turning to
The harvest downwind

I walk beside you
Now and do not profess
To know the mystery of days
Caught in amber or what happens
Next; I wonder myself

Sometimes

Photo/Ray Larsen