focal point.
the sun shines through the earth
tremulously, and, quivering like a lioness
poised to pounce on a powerful prey,
it leaps ravenously upon the trees
falling through wispy leaves
as water in a sieve.
the wind stampedes across the leaves
of grass, setting their seeds tentatively
into the sky, soulless and songless sparrows
ready to sow their way around the world.
the grass appears wavy but
oaken and unshaken as the wind
takes its toll. leaning,
each tall blade is a mournful saint
weeping for the absence of god
in this glory.
the scene is brilliant and bright,
a wholesomely poetic puzzle,
but it's streaming through the camera's lens
and it's upside down
and useless.