Breaking of Bread

Scattered dandelions graze
alley cracks daily,
sharing rent with
whitlow grass.

Beauty meshed with graffiti,
aligned with darkness
overcomes a soul's
desire to bare naked
shoulders under a
full, peaked moon.

Something so simplistic
and pure taints the
nature lover's thirst
for a soft spring rain
when blood drips
from rusty gutters.

I cloak my spirituality,
only to bare witness
to violence.

A wolf howling at midnight
isn't always animal,
and I refuse to be
a strangers last supper.