At The Bottom Of The Well

By John I. Blair

Down at the bottom of the well
That has no walls I see
The stars above me.

Sometimes my view is
Beautiful, intense,
Suffused with blue.

Sunrays, moonbeams,
Are radiant and fine.
Today my vision’s marred;

The air seems scarred.
My breathing’s ragged;
Tears fill my whining eyes.

Tell me surprise? Why
Would I wonder? Only yonder
On the horizon pure shades to brown.

©2004 John I. Blair