Nature is most brutal at her quietest, in the stillness of the morning, the world's breath held, the first gasp the prey.
A snapping turtle, the most primeval beast of muck and slime, captured the first kill.
Rising from the miasma of the cosmic night to remind everyone in this pretty scene that the fast must be broken, those who slumber also hunger.
This is a pretty good prose poem. Glad to see the art is not dead.
Posted by: Michael Trapp, Columbia Missouri | September 17, 2007 at 02:12 PM