Monday, November 3, 2008


Wary Lyric

I live in wariness,

which is no place.

It is an atmosphere,

a mental space.


Courtesy suggests I

ought to give an image

to sharpen what I mean.

A coyote on a ridge:


It watches, listens, sniffs.

Only hunger makes it vicious.

Otherwise, it lives by wariness,

is naturally suspicious


and alone, even in company.

Me, too, to some degree.

I live in wariness, a type

of fear. That's me.

Copyright 2008 Hans Ostrom

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