The Flow

A cage.

A blown out tire.

A rusty knife.

Vines tangling to a tree.

A slamming door.

A rainstorm at the beach.

A dark room.

A hand slapping the face,

Covering the mouth,

Holding up in front of the eyes.

A locked chest.

Moving crowds on a street corner.

An owl coming to perch above a mouse.

A blood curdling scream.

An empty house.

A calling from an ocean cliff.

A burst of light from behind a cloud.

A soft touch on the lips.

A cool breeze on a Fall afternoon,

Blowing red, orange and yellow leaves

From trees on a hill,

Next to a winding country road,

Approaching a small bridge,

Above a rocky creek,

With cold water rushing along

A constant path,

The rhythm of nature.

Breathing in,

Then out.

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Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger, Advocate

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