Brightly lit, throwing harsh shadows
On the field
Surrounded by a gnarly forest
Centuries old
Scarred by fires, and ravaged by famines
Yet teeming with life
With laid-back squirrels and stylish woodpeckers
The dawn
Canaries stream toward the field
Ravenous yet orderly
Drawn to the beacon as a moth is to a flame
Outnumbered, out-maneuvered,
Scarecrows debate
About stopping the unstoppable tide
Time stops for no one
Awoken from slumber
In its peaceful nest in the midst of the corn
A canary looks toward the commotion
The beacon beckons with open arms
Across an abyss
It divides the field
It spreads across the ground, like a pestilence
The scarecrows are oblivious
The canary is pensive
Will the abyss reach the beacon?
Will the abyss reach the nest?
Time never stops.
The abyss reaches the canary's heart.
Time never stops.
-FCDH
02/14/2011
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