a fearful man  

there are no guardrails
north of 60
no helpful signs read
“watch your step”

piercing winds blow
a little colder
whispering verses
of native lands

rivers swell darkly
deadly currents deep
rushing down precipices
with murderous intent

but how can nature
be so bold
to scare me with
rock, wind and ice?

does it not know
that my hand rules?
that by my word
all came to be?

does it not know?
my voice is lost
swallowed by emptiness
scattered by time

© 2006 David Juniper