Ernest Boehm


Cascades as a sea

Grey-blue darkening to blue-black

Reds and purples gasp

at the sun swallowing horizon’s edge

the trees become grey scaled

forming evening-jet geometries

in this verge of darkness,

the night-still-quiet,

I walk

Walking Poem, Late March

The horizon is lead heavy white grays of sky touching the wet green everywhere.

Cold abrades and traps with the wind snares among the trees.

Not quite ice/rain drops percuss on the earth.

Then you breath in the rain heavy air tasting, the birth of Spring.



2022 The Year of Aesthetics №39

Since, I have been alive there has been a single British Monarch. She has seen her nation through many trials and had been queen starting with Winston Churchill. She has seen the crown through many family trials and trials of state. She did much for her nation, rest well good Queen Bess.

The Queen is dead, Long Live the King.