Apotheosis, notwithstanding, mares' tails’
Sweep misunderstandings under a fling
Of clouds reliving, hugged by skies tell-alls
Breathing, whisking tales of unbelieving.

Oh, tails of mystery and strife! I find
There’s nothing left to find in life! I quail,
Most absently, between the flicks of kind.
Mare’s tails! You’re processed differently! I flail

My misnamed name, repetitivity
Retains it’s wilden mane of resnorts dress.
Between a sun of faith, relativity
Wears blue skies, and rainbows of time. The sense

Of colors being alive sustain a
Mare’s tale. Still, below, lies eternity.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 12/21/07
Photo by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
3/23/04 © Copyright