Picture a man
if you will, sitting
at high noon on
the porch of a
ramshackle house,
a structure in
such advanced
decay it seems
poised to implode
A faint smile creases
his unshaved face;
otherwise he is
motionless and silent,
his gaze distant and
without focus, evincing
no sign he is aware of
his scolding wife, or the
gaggle of children who
boil about his weed
chocked yard.
Tell me, has he found
nirvana, or simply fallen
prey to the sin of sloth?
Published In Vol. 4 of 7 Deadly Sins series published by Pure Slush