The Opening

Up here, just above the peak,
time percolates, bursting forth
the seconds and minutes fresh
as beads of dew on velvet moss.

The Middle

Notwithstanding all clichés of love,
we persevered till we came through
on the other side; the one
most lovers fear, where hush permeates
and quiet gratitude rules.

The Closing

At the birth, long before the signs,
when the bells tolled for no one yet,
the scribes sharpened their quills,
for blank pages must now be filled. 

Image credit:Artem Makarov

About the Author: Michael Acker lives in Vancouver, British Columbia. He has lived in various parts of the world; his early education was in German and French(Munich, Germany).  Mike enjoys writing short poetry, especially with the intent of exploring the possibilities latent in a single image.