I've grown into the gray
brittle skeletons that are
probably still sunning
themselves in the sand
among the sea of sage
their silvery bent bones
curled up and warped
retracting sinewy fibers
after each drying day
the over exposure to
lapping radiation isn't
the force acting on me
for I've seen days of wet
and dark and ravens
that raise mushrooms
from their soiled graves
that casts a hue of green
on almost everything
I no longer sit in sand
and count what might be
yet gnarled I've become
as those skeletons in the sun
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