Winter’s Arrow Bowed Posted on August 19, 2013 by wrightba Winter’s Arrow Bowed by B. B. Wright Crooked fingers steer ahead. Another row he goes. Spinal entrails trail behind, like autumn’s earth before. Dreams—long in tooth— like swirling leaves scattered in their fateful flight. Each clouded breath’s opportunity misspent words for blight. Another row he goes. Naked truths, fingers point. Another row he goes. Furrowed brow, windows cracked. Another row he goes. Leathered skin pierced sharply by winter’s arrow bowed. Turning down another row his labor’s hopeful load; hopeful next year’s seeds and spring’s nurturing lead will breathe bountiful crop like toils long ago. But… times have changed! Faultless winds blow unchecked. Another row he goes. Landscapes wither in overflow, greed’s bliss point’s undertow. Another row he goes. History’s hindsight useful tools, not in future’s fold. Imprisoned minds must unchain before the shadowed Scythe ravishes fields and swallows-up DNA’s genealogical threaded might. Another row we go?