Small Moments of Demise
A roly-poly runs across
a burning log in our fire pit.
My son tries to save it,
his fingers not quite quick
enough on the scorching log.
The bug darting to its death to evade him.
I sit on on my stump watching as
shadows drape over our yard,
sun sinking behind the hills,
a gasp escapes his lips in the
glimmer of light left just on his face.
2 thoughts on "Small Moments of Demise"
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I love the title and how demise is woven throughout the poem.
An interesting moment captured.