ManicDDaily

Red Lines

In nature,
they tend to zag–
gob, dribble,
snagging even flattened grass
as the animal still
flees, wounded.

Crest a bird’s
head, or rim
with worried crimson
its unsyncopated
blink.

Pinpoint
petals.

Sometimes work
their iron will upon the ground,
ore masquerading
as mineralized sunset, blood.

Where man’s will is
involved,
make
for fresh blood.

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Here’s a “riddle” poem with the answer in the title for Samuel Peralta’s dVerse Poets Pub Prompt. It also has exactly 55 words, minus the title, so please do tell it to the G-Man.

On the political point, I know the questions involved do pose a riddle.  I personally don’t think that they can be solved by bombing.

The above (blurry) photo is one I took of a ring-necked pheasant, which has a white line around its neck but red circles rimming its eyes.  They are among my favorite red lines.

PS – I am slated to host dVerse Poetics tomorrow so “remember” to save the date!