KS Culbreth

Woe Is In The Sunlight

Woe is in the sunlight on the wall,
Desperation in the swaying shade
Of the budding maple wide and tall,
Melancholy lines the light that’s laid.
We watch the waltzing two from morn till noon
Until they dance upon the chifforobe;
Antiquity is fed with silver spoons –
Mahogany with equal dose forebodes.
The artisan has left his rusting awl
Upon the sill to carve the morning light;
The lines are ever-etched upon his wall,
Forever etched upon our inward sight.
–The sun, the trees, the shades, what they must know
–Of fugacious lives that come, then go.