The Garden Outside The House
The Garden Outside The House
by Natalie Crick
She was out there again that morning.
Talking, laughing, singing,
The garden filled with sweet birdsong
And the aroma of summer.
The sunset leaked red blood,
Annihilating him.
A love gift or a
Romantic invitation.
She had one eye, he had two.
He was waking from a fitful dream.
It soon became dark,
The sky full of storms.
He saw her solemn death dance,
Wet and electric,
An Autumn widow wearing grey.
It was starting to happen again.
NATALI CRICK
Integral probe and search of the rootless wishes for a Romanticism in nature’s exposure dazzling us with evanescent
language.