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Mine enemy is not my neighbor
though in truth they irritate me so
Mine enemy is not the striped bee
his yellow jacket all aglow

Mine enemy is not the jet black crow
eating my songbirds elite seed
Mine enemy is not the hovering vultures
they are hungry and also in need

Mine enemy is not the mounds of ants
burrowing tunnels beneath my grass
Mine enemy is not the blazing sun
turning my green lawn into liquid brass

Mine enemy is the turning hands
upon the ever ticking clock of time
Mine enemy is the deep dark pain
that never leaves this body of mine

What a wondrous event our ancestors
watched just as we ourselves watch now.
To touch their minds through space and time
as we lift our eyes to the heavens.
In this moment of suspended awareness,
we become one with the universe,
Entwined in her majestic mystery
and enthralled by her grace.

The skies darken above Earth Mother,
giving respite to her churning seas, blazing deserts and shifting continents, reminding humanity that we are a part of it all –

Not the all of it.

How cruel is Fate
to place you mere
fingertips away
Unattainable

What manner of Providence
mechanized our meeting
only to inhibit our joining
Forbidden

Who was the Nemesis
that foresaw a love so
pure and so deep
Unreachable

Where is the Jury
that proscribed infinite
separation for soulmates
Reprehensible

Why has the Universe
doomed our rapture
and quelled our passion
Inexorable

Written in response to Carrot Ranch’s
April 2, 2024 Story Challenge in 99 Words: FLASH

Early evening mist rose from the warmth of the sea water, to dance with the cool fog descending from the sky, heavy with cloud cover.

Sunlight sparkled in the moisture laden air, golden rays arcing chaotically as they bounced among the array of diamond hued water particles, floating translucent in the air.

Alone on the pier, the myriad of colors enveloping me, I stood mesmerized by the performance, before I thought to lift my camera to my eye.

Many shots later, I reviewed the photos. I saw a specter of a man revealed by my flash, hovering, then gone.

In response to RDP (Ragtag Daily Prompt) MERCURIAL

Mercurial is the grand Mississippi
as she winds her way south
toward the ocean and her resurrection.

Slow and steady until she swells to full
spilling her turbulent water onto fields overflowing with the crops of man.

Mercurial is the Wind when it twists
and churns into a whirling tornado,
leaving a breeze of fresh air behind.

Catching the scent of the Sea to carry
inland, stirring the longings of souls
locked onto the land.

Mercurial is the vast Sea around us,
one moment serene and comforting,
the next her turbulent waves destroy.

Listening to the Sea creates peace
within the listener, a wistfulness
as the awesome power speaks to us.

Mercurial are the four seasons,
each borrowing characteristics
from the other unexpectedly.

A bright sunny day in Summer
will quickly borrow from a blustery
March, sending nor’easters and rain.

Mercurial is life and all living things,
at once happy and sad, content and
violent, unloved and loved.

More useless than a useless poem,
which is more than useless to many
and yet so very few.

Promises made are useless
when, never meant to be kept
and broken without remorse.

Useless are plans made for a future
not known until past, when hindsight
is more cruel than innocent foresight.

Disposable goods for quick disposal
by man are useless, languishing in soil
without decay for decade after decade.

Useless is music without a listener,
an orchestra with no audience and
no one to hear, I love you.

A rose drifted by
the color of pinkish pearl
Scarce as a precious gem
in the unusual hue of blue

Landing on the flesh toned sand
it’s petals dusted with a veil of silver
Split to reveal the innermost rose petals
shimmering and glimmering

Deep beneath the shifting sand
a spirit fashioned of clay waits
For its chance to pick a petal
and slip beneath the page again

A prayer whispered in the aged vestry,
drifts across stained glass windows,
rising with the aromatic smudge blessed by a robed one conjuring hope.

Grateful for the seeds of love,
filled with wonder as beautiful
images emerge offering second chances behind jaded, tired eyes.

Mere hours remain waiting,
waiting within the crowded vestibule,
hand in hand the followers
await the preordained gloaming.

Do not pass by me or worse
pull me from my resting place
here within this luscious Earth

A wilted flower I may look to be
with my brownish tint and faded buds
but lots of life is still inside of me

Look again at my deep roots anchored here they are strong and feed me deciduously
I am not dead but only waiting for next year