untitled poem from Stone Paths

the steam runs downhill,

as it passes the round rocks

and the northside moss,

to gather itself in swirling pools,

holding boats of leaves

and waving branches, held low in its wake

This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Enter your comment here...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: