“Mirrored Nature of Running” by Matthew Pearce


In mid pace reigning Monarchs dancing
as they hover over blushing roses
as if having tea for two.

Puddles gather lonely rain
for panting deer that frolic
by windswept forgotten trails.

Masked bandits barking
at intruders interrupting
their playful thefts of trash bins.

Previously the most beautiful of all God's
creatures hissing at innocent passerbys
like an angel without wings.

Swaying palm trees home to roosting
death patiently waiting for their victims
to take their final breath before feasting.

Half done in the stride with the path
blocked by gobbling future Thanksgiving dinners
Strutting their tail feathers as peacocks.

Without warning a snap of jagged teeth
proclaims you've entered hazardous
swamps of eternal, lazy sun bathing.

The wisest of all birds patiently
sitting on illumination with no fear,
hunting scampering rodents.

In the last dash the knocking, knocking
of homes being built in massive oaks
sets the final tempo of nature's end.

Witnessed fire brings destruction and renewal
to these surroundings. By the sun's dazzling
rays a new day has been born.