Out of the brine,
the earliest seems so other
Ordovician beauty lies
in the eyes of the beholder
Is it desire or rote primitive urges
that keep this living relic
part of our current web
To be reborn,
as the 450 million year old villain
of our motion picture nightmares
And what do they see of us
do we appear as angels or incubus?
After all,
We crawled out of the ocean too
In response to Patrick Jennings Pic and a Word Challenge #228: Otherness
On a balmy spring night
Where the gravid pink moon
Pregnant with summer anticipation
Lumbers toward full
While upon the darkly fen
A sign language of love
Flickers in the misty umbra
“I am here”
Sign language of love
In isolated umbra
Fireflies flicker
In response to Patrick Jennings Pic and a Word Challenge #227: Quarantine
There is no point in running
Because there’s no place to go
Trapped by our own behavior
In a state of internal limbo
While the world keeps turning
And nature rebounds
In our absence
In response to Patrick Jennings Pic and a word Challenge #226: Running
Dancing Echoes 
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