Precariously Perched

Popsicle season nears its end
While Indian summers prepare for battle
On weary minds still unfit from
prior struggles.
Cool nights remind travelers
That winter will round the bend
Momentarily.
Popsicle sticks will make fine

kindling for the burning of
our wayward souls.
It only takes one outing to
Ansel Adams’ favorite
landscape or to the valley known as

Death

to remember that
life, uncomplicated when
in the desert or woods,
exists precariously between
the rock of ages
and the devil.

Soon the very witching hour will be nigh…
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