Perfection

Can it be nothing more than new life?

Bounding through marshes

And clover 

And buttercup

And moss

And underneath that moss

Death

Balance 

But nevertheless death. 

Find perfection in 

Creatures of decay

The blood of birth

The pain of life

The death of arrival 

Or nothing more than a smooth river

Bubbling slow and sweet

And nurturing

And joyous

And soils

Now long dry

Bring drought

Flames

Death again

No, 

Perfection can be nothing more than distant rumbles in a summer sky.

Not dangerous from a distance

Watching in delight

And awe

And smiling

And knowing

One day it will be your turn

But not today