The Hunter’s Snare

there is
a cauldron
called hope
that passion
stirs aflame

stridently
simmering
under
consequence’s
veneer

refining
elusively
an elixir of
cautious
restlessness

irrepressibly,
it percolates
aimlessly a-waft
in the smokes
of discontent

it perspires
and booms
to the hastening
glint of
satisfaction’s glee

its’ winding
fury
set hither
where
longing’s binds
are rent

intricately
fixed and fastened
unto these
trappings
the hunter’s snare

© bb - all rights reserved