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August 25, 2011



Thoughts ramble through my mind

like the sagebrush of time.


Yet with all this thinking

wisdom is still elusive.

Thoughts become tangled in barbed wire fences

never intended for an open range.


This sagebrush…


Its grayish, green leaves

cast an aromatic fragrance through the still night air.

A cooking herb, once the home of the sage grouse -

The grouse having left no wiser for the nesting…

learned but no longer sage.

Now the small white flowers having fallen

– as all must.


My mind…


Gray matter too is food for thought.

Sustenance of life,

essence of death.


Wrestling thoughts

is like embracing saguaro.

A prickly dilemma

is what mankind was designed for…


Or is it destined for?


Ray Brown

2 Comments leave one →
  1. August 25, 2011 2:34 pm

    Like the reflective tone of the poem.

  2. Ray Brown permalink*
    August 25, 2011 4:49 pm


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