LA TRINITY

Distant hills, brown 

with death, yet green

with hope

and life;

though carnivores

of blood and truth,

like locusts,

would denude you

of your name

and reputation;

your luxuriant valleys, tumbling

waterfalls and frolicking

streams will endure

crisis

after crisis

of hurricanes and leaping flames.

Tell me how a tremor

and a quake has shaped,

with celestial hands,

the audacity of your peaks;

how, though earth, moon, sun, sky,

the stars, the sand, the days of man,

all numbered; my love

for you, my land

of twos and trinities,

is never ending...

The cat with opaque

eyes mews

softly,

softly

stares... in disbelief

and nine is the number

of my grief

and my relief.

©2013 by G Newton V Chance