The Man (Blind) and My Demise

With hair like straw of wheat thatched upon a roof
and eyes as gray as stones beneath the earth

the man appeared in lightning’s fluttering flash
at the wooden gate where I stood, for what
forgotten on this night of blackened mist.

I watched his weathered hands grope the fencepost
with troubled breathing and bubbling spit

thousands of reasons rushed through my mind
on why I should turn and bolt
but
I
stayed.

The blind man with a raspy voice
asked if he could come inside awhile
sit and warm up at my cozy hearth

a fact I wondered how he knew, too late
I realized as my head bounced on rooted
ground, a dormant fear I had I felt rebuild
and I knew he was back
to
finish
me… sigh.

@laurie kolp

The Sunday Whirl (thatched, hearth, fluttering, breathing, flash, gate, stones, grope, rebuild, thousands, bubbling, forgotten)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

aros, Day 7

Fog is a heavy cloak
of consternation
blinding
all perception
polluting
sanity
until
the son's light
lifts it.