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

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Google+ photo

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

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

w

Connecting to %s