I.
EVIL FAKES ITS OWN DEATH
The strangling vine seems to be brittle and dead
as winter approaches.
The creeping white of root rot seems to settle downwards
out of sight in the mists of autumn.
The invasive stinging stink of chemicals burning then reported
move out of town.
The vulture cleans up roadside slaughter and then slowly
sails to the next county.
The little hens’ nest of gossip retires away and nobody knows any details
in the here and now.
The snakeskin rest on the basement steps after the slither takes the poison
to curl away in the creekbank.
The screeching tires and wild eyes turn the corner into a descending cloud of
frayed synapses and blocked passages.
The crashing nightsticks batter amidst the sleeping tents, piling revenge upon deprivation
into an ill-assortment crowding the dawn.
The changed words drift down upon the kneeling at the altars collecting heart-sadness
at yet one more eventide.
Darkness falls–evil curls and crouches in committees.
II.
GOODNESS AND MERCY REBORN IN THE DEWDROPS AT DAWN
Dewdrops at dawn quiver witgh expectations of bejewelment
in the sunrise.
Birds’ first shy chirp testing the air
from a treetop.
A sudden gust of ripening pear breeze carries away
exhaust fumes.
Neighbor’s young dog yipping with the joy at the first
grass-run of the new day.
New sprout-greens flickering in a communal garden
bless the eye of the oldster-and-
Fresh-washed pavement tickles the nose of the jogger
who thought he would not notice.
A gentle smile, nod, and wave from a neighbor driving out
oh, so, care-fully.
A flipped-open newssheet blocking out the details of
new charities and steadfast democracy.
A special touch at a healing altar rejoices the heart and
stands in the legs rising up.
Goodness and mercy spiral up to shine in new light before all giving life.
granbee 