Rendered to Ranting

My gut is in the well of the sty.
It lingers there rotting.
The stench is high.
I don’t worry about the meaning of life.
Purpose, desire, meaningful attire.
The dress whilst come.
As a welcome those found in this new place
I call home, in Enderby, BC, Canada.
I recoil at the reminder of yesterday’s cooking
laying in the trash. Meaningful facts…?
The weather is tepid for autumn.
The leaves limber, dangle.
Sway ever so lithely in the stillness of a countryside scenery.
The bark on the elm is smooth as tan, silken, nylons.
More prominent evergreen reach to embark on skyline advance,
the Canadian pine.
I worry in the thunder storms – and there are many.
The rain pitter, patters on my mobile home dwelling.
I love it, my home; I won’t deny that.
It’s the diamond in the rough. Sweet peacefulness.
The aspen is common here.
Classic white trunks stretching high.
Small, roundish leaves clapping happily.
The creek rushing a note higher, in tune.
Bonn fires in sections misty white.
Cloaking areas of pastureland, farm dwellings.
Husky smoke at times a stronghold.
The sway of life here lingers in my lungs.
Capillaries take their fill of wholesome air.

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