castle: 2.16

Hanging Black Locust Pods

Both dangling and drooping droopy-eyed, dearth of diligent warmth,

           And blasted a stupid black – like hearth coals – burnt by winter rain

           And rattled in their swarths – two keys to a chain

The Black Loci croon, in perfect time with the nest-nestling wreath

Placed presently.  Cry as they should

They could

Not, the vestigial clatter made – drowned

In dull gold-gusts.  Per-pea Per-pod Per-pair suffocates in the posthumous fall of the higher-ups,

The lower-downs,

The leaves and bramblework – two conjoined pods precariously sup-

Ported by a single stem,

Left in a single swath of sought sunlight peeking through higher, browner foliage-

They fall down.  

Alas, the pair breaks!

They flutter and make

Twirling helical movements


Left pod paced

Evenly with the right pod, dashing, flowing, feathering, waning,

Weightless – down to the trodden grass remaining

And each lands with slight sap, exo-skeletons, nothing but a shell

Of its former self, slumping to the dew-licked ground                                                 tap - tap.