By Carter Davis Johnson

Blades of grass,

Adorned with frozen robes,

Transient.

Delicate. 

Vaporous crystal. 

These are the unbreakable things; 

These are the permanent things. 

The hewn dominion of granite, 

Ruling the ages with stoicism,

Trembles.  

Even you, proud granite,

Wear on your smooth head 

Slow decay, 

Like a crown of washed pebbles

That the shore carries 

in her breast pocket.

Heraclitus and the Lethe watch 

Over the ruins of Wolf House.  

Your flinchless form is regal, but

Shrunk 

With every drop. 

Your time, absorbing nothing

save heat and chill, 

Wanes

Imperceptible to the aged eye, lest he 

Keep watch with Tiresias. 

No. You are no more 

Permanent than the 

Effervescent jubilation of frost covered 

grass;

Until the canopy of torn canvas 

Wrinkles and rends,

Its death is perpetual resurrection.

Dancing daughter of frailty.

Bone-chilling felicity.

Lyre of the morning. 

The intersection of permutations with

Permanent reverberations. 

About the Author: Carter Davis Johnson is a Ph.D. student at the University of Kentucky. In addition to his scholarly interests, he is also a creative writer who has been published in The Society of Classical Poets, The Voices Project, and SteinbeckNow. 

*Photo by Tyler Johnson