Time to Kill
       

Evenings I sit beneath the maple trees,
watch seeds helicopter through the air
and listen to the rustling of the leaves.

There are worse ways to spend one's ease
than giving languid hours to a lounge chair
and idle book beneath the maple trees.

A sea of bluegrass billows in the breeze.
The trembling rabbit nestles in its lair
as darkness gathers in the rustling leaves.

Concealed among the boughs the redbreast weaves
its bower. At times I've known black snakes to snare
young birds from nests high in these maple trees.

The dark and silent slither of these thieves
often catches the robin unaware
though she listens for them in the leaves.

The night comes on with no reprieve
for our mistakes, the guilt we bear.
I sit beneath the maple trees
and listen for the rustling in the leaves.

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Copyright © 2014 Charlie Hughes All rights reserved
from The Florida Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission