Forty-seven years wandering this earth, searching, and I’ve never experienced anything so touching—vinegary sweet and God-defying, yet God-proving.

Broken Lives

By scott d. zachary


Quilted ground on the high hill,
Love swarmed hither and fro.
Expectations cleared the old stage,
Leaving you and me to admire.
Blue, so blue the sky,
Vapor trails titillated.
Were there really seven?
I don’t dispute perfection.
Sol’s curtain fell;
The fiery ball plunged.
Stars sparkled on the ground—
Beneath our grassy realm.
A cold wind seeped—
Between warm thoughts.
The bonfire’s orange glow—
Reaffirmed your warmth.
Vexation abandoned my being;
Happiness brimmed.
Mindless meanderings homeward,
Love filled my thoughts.
Destitution slammed;
Hot blood trickled.
Two tiny bunny rabbits—
Cried over their mother—
In the middle of the road.
One sniffed at its mother;
The other sat back, shocked.
Mama won’t move.
Headlights mean nothing;
She’s gone.