This Mortal World

Flies swarm the dead corpse lying in the dirt. A day passes without a flower or soft spoken word. Footsteps approach, stop; shuffle back and forth, kick the soil then meander on. Blustery wind blows cold, whipping up debris then laying it atop the stiff body. The night air sings a shrilling melody till the eyes of dawn. Twilight yawns; a heap of compost now covers the lifeless soul, footsteps return and imprint the mound so neatly designed. The cold wind cries as the trees stretch and bow in grief. A stray dog, discovers the heaping debris and begins to dig; recovers a bone then runs away. This mortal world numb to this unknown entity lying discarded on the freezing earth, unburied and forgotten… Copyright © 2004 By Caryl S. Muzzey