Rested Quill Poem by Fred Rik Kesner

'rested quill'


They laid a marker at the edge of the field,
a plain slab set without flourish,
its first line noting only this:
'Here rests one whose mark was inscribed in cloud.'

Their tale remained unquilled.
Just a simple record, unjournalled,
etched on a medium unable to keep its shape,
a gesture made knowing it would fade
before anyone could read it whole.

Those who passed did not linger long.
They read what they could,
then moved on along weeded rows.
The slab stayed, weathering without complaint,
its tone stalwart-set and purpose modest.

And toward dusk, thought having resurfaced,
no following line but the same breath carried on,
pared back to its barest presence:
'Here rests one whose mark was engraved in air.'







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