Lisa C. Taylor

Intricately shaded, oblivious to wind,
a summit flaunts silver tips.
Sun grenades the peak.

The sea’s thunder
breaks stillness
before it is visible.

Avalanches marshal mountains,
with death crouching in crags.
Tsunamis begin as a receding,
tide pulling back like a fist
before a strike.

Behind an outcropping, a cougar waits,
and a sandbar shark burrows in seaweed.

The sheer wings and furred torso of a bee
pummel a window and a rose-breasted titmouse
flies headlong into a glass slider.

Breath fixes time and place,
leaving the world an oblivious gray
of rushing water and stoic peaks.

What to do about the damage?
Nothing, says the world.
And the unraveling?
Listen.

Lisa C. Taylor  has three published poetry collections, most recently Interrogation of Morning, and two short story collections. She formerly taught poetry and fiction and is co-director of the Mesa Verde Writers Conference. http://www.lisactaylor.com