a nothing...

distant in missing
the missives of kinfolk
with sisters and misters
all penning and primping
and though time is salient
few pay attention,
caught off guard, eyes open,
no honorable mention,
distention in belly,
the hungry child hungers,
bulged out from his head
eyes of wondering child wonders
like stevie, all seeking
the ground that is higher,
the flood waters rising,
the ark has long sailed.
perhaps its a drama
that must play til ending,
and message received
leaves wonder... who is sending?
eyes turned to the sky,
the day is now bleeding
away, and the night is
the blanket for sleeping,
so eyes turn inside,
landscapes unfamiliar,
and opaque etchings in the sand
have grown clearer,
but nothing is seen
from the time of his going
except that last dream,
as this poem,
none are knowing,
and he smiles and comes
each time the wind
is blowing...