Uncertain Lines (Poetry)

Up there — somewhere — out of range of sight
some bluebird sings his happiness — soars up
above dull clouds hung over from last night
the dregs lie cold in hope’s abandoned cup.

Trees are stoic — shrug the rot and rain
strangers walk the thin road through the wood
a shiver runs — uneases air again
change unpicks the trusted threads for good.

Dreams run out my door — whipped by a wind
to spread across a tattered screen of sky
flap their crazy visions — snagged and pinned
like notes — each one a fluttering goodbye.

The flooding river inches up the bank
floats its hapless bodies to the sea
and who knows who’s to blame or what’s to thank
now love’s become a washed-out memory.

Who can identify the chances lost? —
I only know the grass is not as green
there’s few who really care or count the cost
and life’s less certain than it might have been.